Brilliant and Criminal Minds
by georgiagallifrey
Summary: Moriarty and Sherlock both have amazing minds. One brilliant, one criminal. However, there is a missing link between them. Another brilliant yet criminal mind belonging to the mysterious Irene Adler who links these two together. But what lies in the past?
1. Chapter 1: The Meeting

Jim Moriarty didn't have friends. He didn't know how to make them. No one knew much about him, but he knew everything about everyone else. Except one person. The girl in the window.

Jim's parents lived in one of those town houses, with two houses on the one property. The second house had always been empty, as long as Jim could remember. Until one day.

"Mummy, who lives there?" A small chestnut haired girl pointed to the first house.

"Oh, that's the Moriarty family, Irene. Your father is friends' with their father, which is why we are living here. Got a deal on the rent."

"How long are we staying here?" She asked, looking up at her mother as they walked up the driveway. "I don't want to move again." Irene sulked. But suddenly, she stopped and looked up. A small dark haired boy was staring at her through one of the bedroom windows. The two children stared at each other until Irene was inside her new home. Jim frowned with interest; he wasn't familiar with the company of another person, let alone a girl. He decided to stay away from her. It was for the best.

Jim stepped down from his ladder, which helped him see out the window, as his ten-year-old legs did not allow him so. His room was tidy, too tidy for a boy his age. Jim liked cleanliness and order, which was why he found the company of other young boys uncomfortable. He suddenly walked over to his second window, which instead of facing the neighbour's house like his first one, faced the small second bedroom of the second house. The girl from before was sitting on the stripped bed with a sulky look on her face. Jim frowned again. He hoped that their parents did not attempt to befriend him, as he hated whiny girls. He titled his head.

Irene snapped her head up and looked out the window. She instantly saw the boy from before.

Jim's eyes widened as he realised the girl saw him. He froze, not really knowing what to do. But the girl disappeared as quickly as she saw him. Jim relaxed.

Irene returned to the window with a black marker and whiteboard. She saw the boy looking a little annoyed. She smiled and wrote something on the board.

Jim peered with interest at the girl. She held up the board, which said in neat writing_, "__Hello."_ Jim didn't do anything in reply. The girl frowned and wrote again. _"My name is Irene Elizabeth Adler. What is yours?"_ Still he did not reply. The girl named Irene scratched her head in thought and rubbed the board.

"_Are you funny? Can you write?"_ Irene smiled as she showed the boy her writing.

Jim pouted as he realised the girl was asking if he was stupid. He was anything but! He decided to react and fished around for a pen and paper. He scribbled on the A3 paper and showed the girl. _"I am not. I am brilliant."_

Irene smiled happily and wrote again_. __"Does your brilliance have a name?"_ She cheekily wrote and grinned.

Jim frowned but smiled inside at the girl's humour. _"__Jim."_ was all he wrote. The girl smiled in reply but also wrote something.

"_That's a nice name, Jim. Do you want to talk?"_ She wrote, hopeful.

Jim was taken aback. When he didn't reply Irene wrote again.

"_You must be running out of paper. Judging by the amount you picked up, you should have one left."_ She smirked.

Jim was surprised and clenched the single sheet of A3 paper left. How did she know? She mustn't be stupid like everyone else. She must be like me, he thought. Jim wrote on his last sheet. _"Judging by the amount of makeup your mother is wearing, she will be having dinner at a fancy restaurant tonight which will result in you leaving. I will await your message tomorrow."_ Even Jim was surprised he'd fit it all on the paper.

Irene opened her mouth in amazement and at the same moment her mother walked in, make up all over her face telling her that they were eating out. Irene took one last look at the boy and waved.

Jim swallowed and gave a brisk and awkward wave at the girl in the window.


	2. Chapter 2: The Treehouse

Two days pasted until he saw Irene again.

Jim waited until Irene's parents' car drove into the driveway. He waited until Irene finished brushing her teeth. He waited until Irene awoke early that next morning. He waited for hours. He hated himself, waiting for someone like that. He had better things to do, like testing the new revolver that he found earlier that day. But he couldn't. His mind always curved back to the little girl with a brilliance that matched his. Well, almost. Impatient, Jim decided to leave his room and go to his tree house. Since the sun was out and rain hasn't arrived in ages, Jim thought it was a good time as any.

Jim's father built the tree house that sat in the old oak tree behind the second house. As he walked up to the tree, Jim stopped and peered at the ground. Footprints. Little footprints that were engraved into the mud. Steadily climbing up the wooden steps, Jim holstered himself up on the tree house floor.

Irene blinked her innocence eyelids at Jim who just climbed through the floor.

Jim's eyes narrowed as he sat himself up and stood over Irene who was sitting in the corner on a wooden stool, playing with a rather advanced chemistry set. She had a test tube rack, many beakers, a little portable Bunsen burner and several stirrers all laid out of a little wooden table.

"Can I help you?"

Jim frowned and thought about his answer. "You really shouldn't mix those two together. Unless-"

"Unless I actually want to create the exact thing you were about to describe. " Irene finished without looking at Jim, as her focus turned back to the test tube filled with a creamy liquid. She carefully dropped a single drip into a beaker filled with a clear light blue formula. Instantly, the beaker bubbled and a vanilla scent filled the air. Irene smiled gleefully and put the test tube back onto a rack, sitting on the floor and poured the contents of the beaker into her hands. Instead of spilling everywhere, the contents had turned into a glowing slime, which Irene played with childishly in her hands.

"This is my tree house." Jim frowned at the slime, hoping it didn't touch him, as he hated mess.

"No it isn't." Irene replied, still playing with her slime. "You haven't been in here in ages."

How could she have known that? "Yes I was. I was here yesterday."

"No you weren't." Irene looked up from her slime. "You are 10 years old yet the clothing you are wearing suggest otherwise. Not from a normal children's store as you feel and are much mature than that. These clothes are more like grown ups but shrunk. Which means, obliviously, they are hand made and tailored to fit your skinny body. Now, the state of those clothes proposes that you are also a neat freak. No normal boy would care if his shirt wasn't ironed, except someone like you. There is no crease, dirt, fluff or anything to speak of. Now, if a boy like you were to spend your time in a filthy tree house like this it would be spotless, much like you clothes and room, I would presume. Should I continue?" Irene raised her eyebrow at Jim's stunned face. She winked and turned her attention to her slime. "Your hair has been combed several times and already you are plucking your eyebrows. Two conclusions; gay or neat freak and I am putting my money on the later. Also, you knew what I was making in my beaker but being the neat freak you are, you wouldn't have liked to have something as messy as slime in your presence."

"Very clever." Jim smirked. "However, two can play at that game." He walked over to Irene and sat crossed legged in front of her. But soon, Jim noticed the dirt on the floor and started feeling uncomfortable and searched for a chair. Irene smiled small. When he sat back down and he stared at Irene and narrowed his eyes. He studied for a few minutes. "New Jersey mother, Irish father."

"Your father works with my father. You have met him before and could have easily picked up the accent."

"But not your mother." Jim shrugged. Irene also shrugged. "I can see that you are a late sleeper, but early riser. Those bags under your eyes suggest so. But someone at your age would be put to bed at a reasonable hour so it's something bigger than that." Jim studied Irene closer as she shifted uncomfortably under his stare. "Nightmares." Jim smiled as he realised.

Irene chewed her lip. "Well done. I do suffer from nightmares."

"What, like the dark?" Jim teased cheekily. Irene frowned and shook her head.

"Something worse."

"Tell me." Jim's eyes widened in eagerness. Irene laughed and shook her head.

"You tell me, o brilliant one."

Jim frowned. "Maybe later. But there is still something. On your right arm, just under the elbow crease, there is a small red mark." He tilted his head at Irene's arm, which did have a small red mark. Jim shrugged. "Could be a mosquito bite or a itch." When Jim noticed Irene's reactions, he dug deeper. "Or a needle. Why would it be a needle?"

Irene frowned put the slime back in the beaker, crossing her arms. "That's private."

"So was my tree house." Jim replied coldly. "Now, it could just be a vaccine shot but you weren't travelling anywhere, as I would know. Maybe a genetic disease?" Irene looked confused for a second, but then smiled.

"You don't know what it is?" She asked leaning forward. Jim kept his cool but was still a little nervous. Irene grinned. "Jim the 'genius' doesn't know?" She leaned forward and gave Jim a kiss on the cheek. She pulled away quickly and stood up. Jim sat on his chair with a hand on his cheek. His face was vacant and pale.

"Wh-what..." He stuttered but Irene interrupted him, looking at her nails casually.

"Measles." She slowly drew out the words and gave Jim an evil grin. Jim's eyes widened in horror and screamed. Irene held her stomach. He stood up and tried to wipe Irene's kiss off his cheek but it was too late. Jim started scratching his neck and stumbled over his chair. He scrambled over to the hole and jumped out of the tree house, screaming until he reached his front door. Irene sat herself on the chair again and pulled out her slime. "Irene 2, Jim 1."


	3. Chapter 3: The Gift

"Germs! So itchy… germs. Filth - ow!" Jim whined and scrubbed himself harder with the wooden brush in the bath. It only made the rashes worse and raw. He threw the brush on the bathroom floor in anger. How dare she gave him measles? Stupid brat! But wait, Jim sat up suddenly. But she wasn't stupid. She knew that even though Jim would have enough vaccines to keep away the plague, he would catch it from someone who already had a vaccine, therefore indicating a stronger virus. Jim smiled. Oh, she was clever! Very clever! But so was Jim. He had to keep one step in front of her.

"Jim, honey?" Called out his mother from the hallway through the door.

"Yes, mum?" He replied, playing with his rubber duckie.

"That nice girl from next door told me to give this to you." Jim's eyes widened.

"What is it?" Jim asked curiously.

"It's a box. The writing says only you can open it. Is she your little girlfriend?" Jim could easily hear the laugh in his mother's voice.

"She is not!" Jim shouted. His mother opened the door. Jim quickly covered his body in bubbles, so his mother couldn't see the rashes. He was proud and would have been embarrassed.

"Oh, calm down dear, only teasing. Here, dry your hands so you can open it." She nodded and sat the box on the floor and left. Jim stared at the box. Wiping his hands, he leant over and picked it up. He frowned and examined it from all sides. Opening it slowly, he saw a jar and a note. It was on cream paper written in neat cursive handwriting. Jim read it out loud.

"Hello Jim, have fun with the measles . Mine went away after a week. Good luck! On the plus side, this ointment is from an herbal market in Thailand and really helps with the rashes. P.S, don't scrub them with a brush. It only makes it worse. See you after a week, Irene." The note was signed with a small 'x'. Jim frowned and examined the jar. It was small, fitting snugly in the palm of his hand. He placed the jar on the floor and hopped out of the bath, drying himself and putting on his bathrobe. He lifted up his right sleeve and saw the rashes travelled up to his shoulder. Carefully, he dipped his finger into the jar and placed it on the rashes. Instantly, a soothing effect was felt and Jim made a small moan.

"It actually works." Jim admitted and cursed himself thanking Irene. He still hated her, but he realised he would have got the measles sooner or later. She just sped up the process. Also, she didn't have to give him the ointment. Once he placed it on the worst spots, he screwed the lid back on and put it in his private bathroom cupboard. He picked up the note and before shoving it in his pocket, he put his nose to it and smelled. The smell was of vanilla and berries. Jim half-smiled and put on his blue fluffy slippers, walking to his room. He was about to climb into bed when he noticed something out his window, the one facing Irene's. Walking up, he noticed a note that was stuck to Irene's window, meant for him. It read 'goodnight.' Jim tried to see if Irene was there, but the paper blocked his view to her bed. He smiled as he realised she did it on purpose. Under the window was a stack of papers especially put there for Jim to talk to Irene. Thinking, Jim smiled as he wrote a message back. He blu-tacked it on the window and turned off his light before jumping into bed.

Irene suddenly sprung out of bed as she saw Jim's light turning off. She walked up to the window to see if Jim replied. He did. Irene smiled and saluted him before turning around and going back to bed.

"Sweet dreams, Irene."


	4. Chapter 4: The Fugitive

_Present_

Moriarty's and Irene friendship never really changed. They continued to be friends then classmates, colleagues and ultimately, partners. As Irene constantly reminded him, and how much Jim hates to admit it, he never could have been able to operate the massive network in the criminal world so successfully without her help. Irene never directly called herself his _partner_ but he always replied on her advice. She grew up to be a free spirit, while Jim loved to focus on his network. She occasionally did odd jobs for him, as he did for her, but nothing too serious. However, this has made her an enemy to several people and she cannot stay in one place for long. She was always welcome where Jim was in charge. However, that was about to change.

"Hey Jimmy." Irene smiled as she walked up to Jim who was sitting at a rather large desk. She had caught a taxi at the airport from her holiday in Jersey to the block of flats that Jim used as a temporary hideout. She already owned a floor and Jim the penthouse. "I'm back."

"Hmhm." Jim mumbled and never took his eyes off the screen. Irene rolled hers.

"Okay, what is so special?" She grabbed the back of Jim's wheelie chair and pulled him away from the desk.

"Hey!" Jim shouted in surprise as Irene looked at his screen.

"Oh calm down, I'm just looking for a second. That's what you get for not saying hi after I have been away for a month."

"Oh sorry, I have been a bit distracted." Jim admitted and walked his chair back to the desk.

"'The Science of Deduction'? Who is this guy?" Irene said in deep thought. "He might actually be on to something." She scratched her head. "Hey, this is exactly what we do!" She pointed at the screen and looked to Jim. Jim nodded, smiling brightly.

"Isn't it? I actually consider myself a fan." Jim smiled cheekily. Irene noticed straight away.

"Okay, what have you done? Please tell me you haven't tried anything." She rolled her eyes. Jim opened his mouth in fake shock.

"Me? Please, I haven't gone near the man! In fact, I don't even need to if I wanted his life story." Jim trailed off on his own, thinking up plots in his little scheming head.

"Sherlock Holmes…" Irene said, peering at the author. "I have heard that name before... where?"

"Think of the name, Irene. Holmes!" Jim shouted in Irene's face, which was unresponsive. "Holmes!" He shouted again and waved his hands. Jim rolled his eyes. "Does this ring a bell? _Mycroft Holmes."_ He said slowly. Irene suddenly understood and snapped her fingers.

"His brother-?" Irene realised. "He's in the British government!"

"He _is_ the British government you dumbass!" Jim shouted and waved his hand, which then scratched his chin.

"So, how can we use this to our advantage?" Irene asked as Jim paced the room. Irene stood at the centre of Jim's thinking circle and frowned. "Sherlock of course." Irene tried. Jim stopped. "But how?"

Jim grinned and raced up to her, grabbing onto her shoulders. "He is the key!"

"I see." She slowly nodded, then shook her head. "No, I don't actually."

"Come on Irene!" Jim shouted and pressed his forehead to hers. "Use that brilliant brain of yours! Sherlock Holmes is a detective, right? Why don't we have a little play with him then?" Irene chewed her lip and look back at the computer.

"You mean like, send him a puzzle? Distract him from the fact that the target is Mycroft?"

"That's not all." Jim smiled and started into Irene's eyes. "Bait."

"Bait?" Irene screwed up her nose. "Who?" she asked, titled her head. She suddenly understood. "Me? You want to sell me off?" She shouted and grabbed Jim's shoulders, shaking them. Jim wiggled out of her grip and smiled. "Has your brain become jam? No way!"

"What?" Jim stopped smiling and menacingly gave Irene cold eyes. She didn't budge.

"No." She shook her head. "I stand by most of what you plot, but I will not do this. I will not personally inject myself in your plans." She looked at the computer again. "This doesn't feel right. If he is as smart as you say, this could turn very bad for us. For a lot of people."

"He will never get to me. No one ever will." Jim smiled confidently.

"You?" Irene said and turned around. "Always yapping on about 'you'! When is it my turn? It might not be my name on every criminal's lips but it is half the brains behind it!" She took a step away from Jim. "No. I will take no part in this." Jim's face suddenly darkened. Irene swallowed.

"'No'?" he repeated and took a step forward. "That is a very dangerous word, Irene." Irene laughed, although it was slightly nervous.

"Are you threatening me?" she smiled. "You can never harm me! I know your every move, ever since we were 10! I can disappear quite easily, just try me."

"I can." Jim said and reached into his pocket. "And I will." He quickly pulled out a glock but Irene swiftly did a back flip and grabbed Jim's laptop. She flipped again and hid behind the desk. Jim laughed. "What are you doing, Irene?" He openly mocked her.

"I don't really know." She admitted. "I could always break your laptop." Irene smiled as she saw Jim's eye widened.

"You wouldn't dare!" Jim screamed the last word, causing a loud echo.

"Try me Jim!" She shouted back.

"It is Moriarty to you!" He screamed. "Jim is no longer your friend. You now have a very bad enemy. His name is Moriarty."

Irene's eyes widened. Jim and her always fought, but this time sounded serious. She slowly stood up from behind the desk. "It is Miss Adler to you then, Moriarty." She held up her hands and threw the laptop on the ground. Jim yelled in anger as the laptop snapped and the screen broke. Irene raced from behind the desk and jumped over Jim, missing his open hand by cm. he fired out her, but she kept darting left and right, making it hard for Jim to focus. She ran out the door and jumped on the staircase banister, sliding down. She continued until she hit the foyer. Taking one last look up the staircase, she ran out the main door, prepared to start her life as a fugitive.


	5. Chapter 5: The Alleyway

"BORED!"

"I DON'T CARE! JUST STOP SHOOTING AT ME!" John shouted back hid behind the couch. Sherlock swung around the glock and fired random shoots at random places.

"Where are all the criminals hiding?" Sherlock moaned and flopped onto the couch. "They can't all have retired." John jumped on Sherlock and wrestled to gun out of his hand.

"For my sake, hopefully they will come out of retirement soon. I can't keep babysitting you." John rubbed his forehead. "You are a grown man!" He walked over to the kitchen, falling over a test tube rack in the process.

"Watch out." Sherlock said in a dull tone. "Hope you didn't break anything."

"Don't worry I didn't-"

"Good. Some of that equipment costs a fortune." Sherlock sighed and rolled over. John opened his mouth.

"The equipment? You're banging on about the equipment? I could have been burned, cut anything!"

"And?" Sherlock muttered. "Your health doesn't concern me. All that matters-"

"Is the work." John rolled his eyes and finished. He put his hands in his pockets and found some money. He thought. "Come on." He walked over to Sherlock and grabbed his arm, pulling him up. "We are going out. You need some air, I need some sanity." Sherlock sulked the huge way to the Chinese restaurant. He sat down and frowned, holding his head up in his hand.

"This is boring." Sherlock muttered to John who instantly snapped.

"Cut it out. Order something. You will wither away if you don't."

"Eating is dull."

"You're dull." John retorted. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and smiled. John stopped looking so stern and smiled as well.

"Can I hope you sir?" A young woman with blonde hair walked up to the table. She had dark green eyes and freckles across her nose. Sherlock ignored her. She smiled. "What will you have? I take you friend won't be eating."

"He will." John smiled politely and kicked Sherlock's leg under the table.

"He won't." The waitress smiled while Sherlock looked at her with interest. "Your friend has been looking out that window for five minutes, indicating he isn't really interested in food. Hasn't even touched the menu, won't listen to you when you try and discuss options. No even slightly. Even ignored that kick from under the table. I take it you forced him here?" She asked John's surprised face.

"Why ye-yes I. How did you know?" he asked, confused. Sherlock smiled and spoke before she could answer.

"She observed, not knew. I have to say, I'm interested. What else can you pick up about me?" Sherlock placed his hands together and rested them at his chin.

The girl raised her eyebrow. "Not really standard procedure sir." She shrugged and looked over her shoulder to find her boss.

"Yet here you are." Sherlock smiled. "Don't worry, your boss won't know." The girl smiled back.

"Fine, but only theories. You don't eat much, judging by your physique but you could just be a working out type but there would be muscle indication, which you don't really have. So, I would say you hardly eat, also noted from your nails."

"Nails?" Sherlock asked interested.

"Look at them. Clearly perfect, but as I said you don't eat so you either drink lots of milk, or take pills. Strangely, even though you look rather sloppy, you don't have time for pills so that could include that your job, which I knew you have, can turn from dull and boring, to demanding and fast paced. Also a job that requires a high level of personal hygiene. But as I said, theories." She waved her hand and pulled out an order booklet. Sherlock's eyes narrowed and grabbed the girl's shoulder, pulling her down and forcing her to sit with them.

"How do you know that?" Sherlock asked, eyebrows knitted and eyes narrowed. The girl's eyes went wide but disappeared quickly as a flash and stood up, smiling.

"Like I said, Mr Holmes. Theories." She winked at John and turned around, walking out the kitchen door.

"Okay, John. We're following her." Sherlock stood up and put on his coat. John instantly objected.

"No! For once I want to go to a restaurant and finish my meal." John groaned as he took a prawn chip from the bowl on the table.

"Come on John!" Sherlock threw John's coat at him. "We have to catch her!"

"Why are we following her? She works here!" John shouted as Sherlock ran out the door.

"Of course she doesn't work here!" Sherlock yelled back. "She wasn't even wearing a uniform!" Sherlock grinned to himself as he ran out into the cold London air, looking for the girl.

**LATER**

Irene yanked off her blonde wig and took off her black 'work' shirt (with another one underneath) and opened the nearest trashcan, putting those clothes in and pulling others out. She put on a leather jacket and tied up her hair in a makeshift bun. She had walked out of the kitchen back door and was hiding in the nearest alleyway. Irene pulled down a fire escape ladder and climbed up, sitting behind a bunch of large pot plants. Behind them were a medium sized metal bow and metal arrows.

"This is crazy." Irene was mad and she knew it. She couldn't even imagine the danger of her contacting Sherlock, but she couldn't help it! She loved brilliant disguises, dangerous chases and thrilling endeavours, it was just who she was. She wasn't reckless however. Irene was careful. Very.

"She came in here!" Shouted Sherlock as he turned the corner into the alleyway. Irene smiled.

"How can you possibly know?" Said his friend as he caught up.

"Should I explain?" Asked Sherlock. His friend sighed.

"Don't bother."

"She is still here." Sherlock looked around.

His friend rubbed his head. "Okay, explain that."

Sherlock pointed to a motorbike sitting in a corner. Irene mentally smacked herself in the head. "Women's bike, 3 years old, kept in good condition save for a few scratches but she doesn't have time to keep it in good condition but still loves it and wouldn't have left without it. Shall I go on?" Sherlock said breathlessly.

"Fine." John looked around as well.

Sherlock walked up to an old Holden parked in the alleyway. His fingers glided along the door. Irene picked up three arrows, and drew.

Sherlock suddenly picked up his head. "What is it?" the friend said.

"Not sure, John. I never really heard it before." Sherlock's eyes narrowed into the darkness. Irene released. Three arrows shot out at Sherlock. On arrow hit the car door, one just above the wheel and the third missing Sherlock outstretched hand by millimetres. Sherlock's eyes grew wide and he uttered a sharp cry before retracting his hand. John cocked his gun and pointed it in the direction where the arrows came from. Irene laughed in glee. Sherlock whipped his head to the source of the laugh.

Irene decided to speak. "I mean you no harm Mr Holmes. I have a weak spot for showing off, I must admit."

"You accent has changed, miss." Sherlock said, eyes circling around the alleyway and keeping his hand close to him. "It was Welsh, now it is Jersey and Irish."

Irene blinked in surprise. "Impressive, Holmes." Her attention turned to his friend. "Who is your friend? I have not seen him before."

"Dr John Watson." The friend bravely replied.

"Dr? What's a doctor doing playing cops and robbers with Sherlock Holmes?"

"Honestly, I ask myself the same question." John Watson smiled small.

Irene thought. "Must be due to your army service in Afghanistan..." Irene trailed off. John's mouth opened.

"What-? How do you...?"

"Never mind!" Irene smiled and interrupted. "Back to business. Dr Watson, very nice to meet you." Irene said politely, nodding. John frowned.

"Can't say the same as you, hiding cowardly in the shadows." Irene blinked and also frowned.

"It cannot be helped, Dr Watson. You see, it is dangerous enough me talking to you, let alone a meeting face to face."

"Dull." Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes, looking bored. Irene smiled.

"'Dull'? Mr Holmes? You certainly didn't think that about my arrows."

Sherlock walked over and yanked out an arrow. "One inch thick, bluebird feathers speckled with white paint and a metal originating from York." He smirked and twirled the arrow in his fingers. Dr Watson smiled. Irene sighed.

"Spoil the fun of having arrows, shall we?" Irene quickly looked above Sherlock's head and frowned. "Unfortunately, this meeting is about to end. It was so much fun." Irene placed an arrow in her bow and aligned it. She counted to three and released.

_Crack! _Sherlock took one look at Irene who had stood up after she released. Strangely her face wasn't one of smugness or happiness, it was one of blankness. However, her eyes were sad. Sherlock's own eyes rolled over as he collapsed onto the cold brick. John's mouth opened as he ran over.

"Sherlock!" He yelled as he supported Sherlock's limp body. Broken bits of what remained of the pot plant hanging above Sherlock's head lay scattered around his body. Irene had intentionally positioned Sherlock so she could knock him out in case things got a bit dodgy. The rope holding the pot was cut and hit Sherlock smartly in the head. She swallowed and jumped off the balcony, landing squarely on her feet. John attempted to shoot at her but Irene was too fast and flipped herself over to her bike. Before, putting on her helmet, Irene looked over to Sherlock then to John.

"Sorry." She said and quickly shoved on her helmet. She kicked off the stand and drove around John and Sherlock, disappearing into the night. John tried to fire at the bike but was too late.

"Sherlock! Sherlock, oh my god." John pressed on the head wound, hoping to relive the pressure. John drew his hand away – it was covered in blood. His head wound started from his forehead across the top of his skull and ended on his left ear. "Please, hold on." Sherlock's eyes fluttered.

"John..." he murmured. "John...she...she knows..." Sherlock grabbed John's hand clumsily and gripped it hard. "She...knows Moriarty." Sherlock's eyes closed and John panicked.

"Sherlock! Help, someone!" John called out into the alleyway, desperately. "Help, please!"

Irene looked over John and Sherlock in the alleyway. She had climbed onto the rooftops and stood above them. Titling her head, she pulled out her phone and dialled a number.

"Hello, St Bartholomew's Hospital? Emergency in the alleyway on the corner of Baker Street." Irene hung up before the person on the other end replied. She put the phone back in her pocket and looked down into the alleyway again. Suddenly, as she peered closer, Irene saw the corner's of Sherlock's eyes fluttering open, looking straight at her. Irene straightened and her face remained blank.

"Hm." Irene's head snapped up as she heard a slightly chuckle. Straight ahead, on the opposite rooftops was a figure. Irene's heart froze. It was Moriarty. Irene remained calm as Moriarty smiled and waved his hand. He titled his head back and forth as he turned and walked along the roofs, disappearing from sight. Irene sighed and hung her head, clutching her chest. She too stepped back and disappeared.


	6. Chapter 6: The Hospital

Sherlock didn't wake up for two days, John never leaving his side. Lestrade and other members of the police force sent in cheap flowers and Anderson sent in a card reading, "Sucked in." John immediately threw it out. Molly sent in a bouquet everyday and Mycroft visited often. Mrs Hudson sent in food and blankets for John.

John sighed and stood up, stretching his legs. He scratched his head and walked over to the room's window. The sun was bright, save for a few rain clouds. John's watched beeped, right on lunchtime. He yawned and walked back to Sherlock's bed, looking down on his friend. He picked up his wallet and phone, leaving the room for the cafeteria. John walked past a redheaded nurse and gave her a brisk nod. She smiled back reassuringly. The nurse kept looking at John until he turned the corner and left the ward. She chewed her lip and spun around, walking straight into Sherlock's room.

"Okay, let's see what we have here." She clicked her tongue as she walked over to Sherlock's drip, grasping the bag filled with water. She pulled out a small needle from inside her breast pocket and tapped the contents. She connected it to the drip, inserting the small amount of blue liquid into the bag. Instantly, the blue liquid was sucked into the tube and worked its way to Sherlock's wrist. The nurse looked at her pocket watch, counting the seconds. She looked up and smiled.

Sherlock's eyes fluttered open and his face looked weak. His head titled to meet the nurse's face. She smiled but Sherlock didn't return it.

"...You..." He managed to say weakly.

"Me." The nurse cheekily replied. She sat down on the chair behind her and crossed her legs.

"Answers. Now." He said, too weak to sit up. The nurse blinked.

"You were getting too nosy. To be fair, you stood right underneath it, you brought it on yourself." She held up her arms and shrugged. "However, all is not in vain. I have given you a special mixture, my own, that will allow you to talk to me, but unfortunately not move. Also wakes you up from a coma. Neat, huh?"

"Coma?" Sherlock asked eyes narrowed. The nurse nodded.

"Your friend, Watson, never left. He's quite the companion, very loyal. You are lucky."

"Name." Sherlock stated. "Now."

The nurse smiled. "Call me Adler, for the time being. I shall be seeing you later though." Irene stood up and leaned over Sherlock's body. He frowned. Irene grasped Sherlock's head and peered at the bandages. "Terrible doctors here, your bandages should have being changed hours ago." She straightened herself and picked up a roll of bandages that were sitting on a table. She cut off a desired amount with the scissors in her pocket and returned to Sherlock's head. He winced. "Oh calm down, princess. It will only take a moment." She gently lifted Sherlock's head and unwound the bandages. She pulled a cloth from her nurse's coat pocket, which was antibacterial, and carefully wiped some of the old blood from Sherlock's forehead and hair. "There, much better." Irene nodded in satisfaction.

"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock asked as Irene wrapped the fresh bandages around his head. Irene frowned.

"Why not?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Not a good enough answer."

"Fine." She stopped and tied off the bandages. "I am doing this because I feel like it. I hit you in the head with a pot plant because I felt like it. I could have easily killed you with an arrow. But I didn't. You were interesting enough to keep alive. Remember that well, Sherlock Holmes." Irene gave Sherlock a small raise of her eyebrows and turned to his drip bag. She pulled out another needle from her opposite pocket (a clear liquid) and connected it to the bag. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but the drug Irene put in his drip had taken its toll. His eyes rolled over and he fell into his previous sleep. Irene turned and was about to leave but John was standing at the door. Irene froze.

"How is he nurse?" he asked, walking in and sitting on the chair. Irene sighed in relief, as he had not seen Sherlock awake.

"He is recovering very well to a head wound that bad. However, be prepared for a bit of amnesia. He will overcome that of course, just give it time." She gave John and warm smile and walked out of the room.

"Okay, thanks." John nodded and sat back down on his chair. The nurse hesitated for a moment outside the room, but continued walking. John pulled out his phone to check his messages. None.

"Oh hurry and wake up Sherlock!" John shouted at Sherlock's body angrily. Even he was surprised at his own sharpness. Also the fact he just shouted abuse at a consulting detective in a coma. He shoved his head into his right hand.

"Patience, Jack. Healing takes time. However dull it may be." John slowly lifted his head. There across from him, Sherlock smiled. His curls were messy and his eyes sparkled.

"Sherlock!" John stood up. "You...bastard!" Sherlock smiled bigger.

"Yes, it's me. Sorry for the delay. I was thinking during my time absent. I presume Molly sent those flowers?" Sherlock pointed to an elaborate bunch on the table.

"Yes? Why?"

"Throw them out. I don't like them." Sherlock closed his eyes and scratched his neck. John laughed.

"They are staying. And who's to say you care? You hate flowers."

"I appreciate their function, not their beauty. Anyway, I have other things on my mind. I hope you have looked into our mystery lady?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. John looked taken aback.

"I haven't left your side!"

"I heard." Sherlock said to himself.

"Wait, what? How could you have known?"

Sherlock quickly shook his head. "Never mind. Did you find out anything about her?"

"Well no. Other than the fact that she is a lousy waitress." Sherlock smiled at John's joke.

"This recovery has been nice but we need to get home. Call a nurse; tell her I will be taking my leave shortly. I don't see why I can't do the rest at home." Sherlock threw off his blanket, revealing a plain hospital gown that came to his knobby knees.

"You should wear that often." John smiled, helping Sherlock up. "It suits you."

"Really?" Sherlock quizzically asked. John looked confused.

"No, I was making a joke."

"Oh, I knew that. Where are my clothes?" Sherlock looked around. John picked up a small bag that was sitting on the floor.

"Mrs Hudson brought them over." Sherlock looked inside and pouted.

"My scarf's not here." John sighed.

"This is good enough seeming she didn't have to get this for you. Now, get changed in the bathroom and I will meet you outside." John gently pushed Sherlock into the direction of the bathroom before leaving the room himself. Sherlock spent five minutes getting changed. John was talking to the doctor at a counter to get Sherlock checked out. When he came out, Sherlock noticed something that wasn't there before. Sitting on his bed, like a neat little parcel was his scarf. Sherlock slowly reached out and picked it up. Shrugging, he wrapped it around his neck and left, stealing a box of rubber gloves in the process and hiding it in his coat.


	7. Chapter 7: The Interview

"You called me 'Jake', by the way."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did, when you woke up. That nurse told me you might have a bit of amnesia."

"Don't always believe what nurses tell you, John." Sherlock darkly replied, walking up Baker St. The two friends walked into their flat at 221B and climbed up the stairs to walk into the living room. They froze instantly.

"Hello boys. Nice place you got here, a bit of a pigsty though, one must admit." Irene Adler grinned at the boys, sitting from her armchair. She had pushed it to the middle of the room to gain full view of the door. A faint smile was on Sherlock's lips and John looked furious.

"You!" He shouted and reached to his gun in his back pocket. Irene rolled her eyes.

"Men. Honestly, why can't you say a simple hello?"

"How did you get in?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow and walked towards Irene, who curled her lip.

"It wasn't rocket science. Two minutes tops." Irene held up a small screwdriver and hairpin. "Hardly worth it. The door was so old I could haven even kicked it down. But I'm considerate you see, I knew you wouldn't have been in the mood to confront a stranger _and _buy a new door."

John laughed sarcastically. "_You're_ considerate?"

Irene shrugged. "I try to be."

"What are you here for?" Sherlock asked, sitting in another armchair, arms on knees, head resting on praying hands.

Irene turned her head to him. "Your housekeeping position."

"We didn't advertise for one."

"Oh, but you need one." Irene smartly replied holding up a finger, gesturing to the whole room. "Your lovely landlady, Mrs Hudson I recall, suggested so. And I can see why."

"Everything is in its proper place."

"Including the dirt, the chemicals and the rats." Irene raised her eyebrows.

"We have rats?" John nervously asked. Irene laughed.

"Common signs everywhere. Sherlock would have known for weeks." Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "Using them for experiments? Speaking of which, I think I saw one with three eyes."

"You didn't tell me?" John angrily said to Sherlock, who smiled at Irene.

"It doesn't matter." He replied in a flat tone.

"Of course it does! I don't want to share my flat with your mess, let alone third eyed rats!"

"May I make a suggestion?" Irene didn't wait for a reply. "A cat. That would help."

"I'm allergic." Sherlock said quickly. Irene narrowed her eyes and snorted.

"No you're not." Sherlock titled his head as Irene smiled. "If you were allergic, you would have reacted to the essence of cat I put on that very door. Even the most faint of allergies would have reacted. I would have seen a reaction from my chair."

"Which is why you put it there." John nodded slowly.

"Fine, I am not allergic. But there is no such thing as 'essence of cat'." Sherlock said.

"Of course there is. What are people usually allergic too? The fur? The saliva? All of these elements would have been included."

"It is strange..." Sherlock laughed and leaned back in his chair. Irene stiffened and narrowed her eyes.

"And what is that?"

"You went to all this trouble to prove something stated which I could have never even said."

Irene smiled. "Yet you admitted to being wrong. You believed me straight away despite my motifs. I didn't even put 'essence of cat' on a door and I still tricked you." Sherlock's smile faded a little. John bit his lip to stop him from laughing.

"I would hire you, only on the terms that this house needs a little cleaning. However, you hit me on the head with a pot plant." Irene rolled her eyes.

"Ancient history Mr Holmes! The present is so much more fascinating. By the way, what fascinates you?" She tilted her head and leaned in slightly. Sherlock smiled.

"You."

"Let us begin then." Irene crossed her legs. "Housekeeper." She raised the end of her sentence like she was asking a question, but Sherlock took it as Irene stating her sentence.

"The position you would like to fill?" He asked. Irene raised her eyebrow.

"That is the entire purpose of gracing you with my presence, Holmes."

"I thought it was it put cat essence on our door." John said with a serious face. Irene grinned then laughed.

"Oh, I am going to like working here. Where shall I begin?" Irene stood up and spun around slowly. John chewed his lip.

"The fridge." John stepped aside as Irene gave him a suspicious stare and walked over to the fridge. She pulled open the door. A gasp was heard. John laughed and turned around to see her face. But it wasn't one of shock or disgust. It was one of delight.

"You have a head? I have being looking everywhere for one!" She turned from Sherlock's surprised face and peer closer. "What have you been testing on it?"

"Oh my god she is a second you." John shook is head and rubbed his forehead. "Great! Another you. I can hardly stand the first."

"What is your interest, Miss Adler?" Sherlock held a hand to his chin as he walked into the kitchen.

"You know, the effects of decay, but more specially the appearance and colour of bruises. Need to add it to my archive." Irene mumbled away in thought.

"Archive?" Sherlock asked interested, standing next to Irene. She nodded but suddenly slammed the fridge door.

"Wouldn't you like to know, little miss curious?" Irene titled her head mockingly. "More on that later!" Irene sang, walked out of the kitchen, carefully and gracefully side stepping the chemical equipment. "Used to have a chemistry set like this. When I was twelve."

"This is state of the art equipment." Sherlock argued following her.

"For who? High school students?" Irene laughed. "Now, seven thirty is a good starting time, don't you think?"

"Wait- what?" John interrupted.

"And three is a good finishing time. Shall I start tomorrow?" Irene walked up the Sherlock, leaning in very closely, starting intently into his uncomfortable eyes. He gave a brisk nod. Irene smiled wide. "Good. This has been an most exciting interview. Shall see you boys tomorrow!" Irene pulled herself away from Sherlock and rather quickly shook John's hand. She gave Sherlock a quick wink and left the room, closing the door.

"I don't think I am going to be able to go to sleep tonight."

"Why is that, John?" Sherlock asked, still staring at the door in which Irene Adler just left.

"I'm not going to recognise the house when I wake up. Plus, if I sleep in, who knows what Miss Adler might do to me?" Sherlock gave a half smile and John grinned.


	8. Chapter 8: The Warning

Irene sighed and breathed in the crisp night air. She wrapped her black scarf around her skinny neck and proceeded down Baker St. She whistled a taxi (or cab as her mother always called them) and climbed inside. She fixed her hair and addressed the driver.

"61 Charles Road please." She smiled as she checked her phone.

"Sure ma'am." Irene stopped and looked up. She eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. That voice sounded familiar. But she shook her head and forgot about it. Irene put her phone back into her coat pocket and stared out the window. She gazed into the starless night, wishing once in a while she could see a star. Irene smiled. Jim and Irene always had that fight. She would complain about the lack of starts while Jim thought the city lights were enough. She smiled at the memory. It seemed so long ago now.

"61 Charles Road, ma'am." The driver said as he stopped outside a small suburban house. The baby blue paint was peeling off the walls and the windows were dirty. The garden needed some TLC no doubt about it. Irene thanked the driver and stepped out of the car.

"By the way Bill, how is your daughter? It must be five years since you had her fiancé killed." Irene smiled sweetly at the driver who stared at her with wide eyes. "_Dear Jim", _Irene mocked in a high tone, "_Will you fix it for me? My darling daughter's husband to be is a terrible man for her. Will you please get rid of him?" _Irene frowned fakely and the driver immediately drove off without even waiting for the fare. She blew him a kiss and waved good-bye. Irene strolled through the house's gates and up the stone path. The creaking steps were loud as she gracefully ascended up. The spare key was hidden in the deer's head hanging next to the door. Irene smartly pulled it out and opened it. As she turned around and closed it, she checked the frame of the door. Irene had smartly put a piece of tape across it in case someone had gotten in before her. A few inches above the wooden floorboards were a small piece of white weak tape. Irene frowned. It wasn't broken, but it wasn't in its right place. That, plus there was had being movement in the dust that had settle on the floor. She smirked.

"One step ahead, hey?" She laughed to herself. Irene opened up her handbag and pulled out a handgun. She cocked it. The house had two levels: a bathroom and two bedrooms on the top with the kitchen, living and bathroom. Irene through her bag into the sofa and stood at the bottom of the wooden stairs. Gun first, she climbed them.

At the top of the stairs, was a short corridor. The room at the end of it was the main bedroom, with the second bedroom on right and bathroom on the left. The main bedroom's door was slightly open. Irene left it closed.

_Unknown to Irene, as she walked hesitantly along the corridor, a small red dot appeared on the back of her head, much like the light of a sniper's rifle. _

She stopped at the door. Breathing slowly, she grasped the knob and swung it open, gun quickly pointed.

"Boo." A high-pitched mocking voice greeted Irene. She frowned and didn't move.

Jim Moriarty sat on her bedroom, legs crossed with a childish grin on his face. "Not happy to see me, darling?" His puppy expression saddened. Irene raised an eyebrow.

"Not even slightly, Jimbo." She walked closer, gun still raised.

Jim frowned at his annoying nickname. "Don't call me 'Jimbo'. I hate it. Put that thing away, we both know you won't be using it." Jim smiled.

"Oh really?" Irene asked. Jim nodded. She smiled and she slightly turned her head. "It won't have anything to do with the red light at the back of my head?" Jim's face dimmed a little. "Hello, Sebastian." Irene called out. "It has been a while. Still Jim's bitch, I see." There was a thud heard and Sebastian walked up behind Irene, pressing the tip of his gun against her head.

"Oh, there's no need for that, Sebbie! This is a nice little get together!" Jim motioned to a chair that was placed next to the door. Irene sat down. The two friends stared at each other in an intense silence. Irene broke it.

"What is your business here? Don't you have clients to attend to?" Jim shrugged.

"They can take care of themselves. You're more interesting at the moment." Jim's eyes sparkled. Irene smirked.

"Oh how rude of me!" She touched her chest in fake shock. "Can I offer you anything since you barged into my house? Tea? Coffee? Botulism?" Irene voice dropped to a deadly level as she said the last word. Jim however, smiled.

"Still going on about that, are we?"

"We were fourteen. It was the first time I saw the real you."

"Yet", Jim drew out, "Here we are. All those years later. You never left."

"Oh, I left." Irene said. "And it crushed you." She smiled. "It crushed you so hard that it wasn't bearable."

"I survived." Jim clearly was getting uncomfortable.

"No you didn't." Irene shook her head. "You cried like a baby."

"Sebastian!" Jim shrieked and Sebastian immediately cocked his rifle and jammed it against Irene's head. Still, she taunted him.

"You couldn't bare that fact that the only person that understood you left."

"Shut up!" Jim snarled.

"I bet you wetted your bed every night."

"SHUT UP!" He screamed and stood up on the bed. He glared at Irene with demon eyes. "How dare you talk to me like that?"

Irene scoffed. "Who says I can't? In case you haven't noticed Jimmy I do what ever I like."

Jim jumped off the bed and stormed up to Irene, grasped her chin in his hands. Irene tried to squirm out of his, but Sebastian had retrained her shoulders. Jim stared intently into her eyes. Irene kept her face fierce, showing no signs of fear.

"You are free as long as I allow it. Remember, I can kill you at anytime. Your little _games_ with Sherlock are to be stopped. He is _mine_." Jim put so much emphasis on the last word. Irene raised her eyebrows. Jim tilted his head and leaned in, a distance of a few centimetres from her face. He searched her face until he closed his eyes. Irene's eyes widened. Jim smiled and inhaled. He slowly opened them and nodded to Sebastian, indicating their leave. Jim released Irene's jaw and she poked out her tongue. Jim laughed, rubbing the top of her head like one would do to a puppy and left. Irene sat in her seat until she heard to the front door slam. She leapt out of the chair and straight for the window. She watched the pair leave and unlock a shiny black BMW. She curled her lip, but couldn't help smiling.

Jim was such a weirdo and a part of her liked it.


	9. Chapter 9: The Flat

Jim twirled his tie in his hands as Sebastian took the sharp turn leading out of Charles Road. His eyes looked distant but his brain was focused, focused on the scent that was Miss Irene Adler. Jim smiled. It hadn't changed in 20 years. He still remembers her card, the one she sent when she gave him the measles, and the beautiful scent of berries and vanilla that seemed to be woven into the very paper. It gave him a funny feeling in his stomach. She always smelt like that, and Jim loved it. It was half the reason he kept her around. Jim didn't really know the other reason.

"Where are we stopping?" Sebastian called from the driver's seat. Jim's train of thought was broken.

"Huh? Oh, just the flat for tonight. Nothing special." Jim curled his lip and stared out the window. Sebastian glanced at him from the front mirror.

"Something on your mind? Someone, even?" He tried. Jim glared at him through the mirror.

"None of your concern." Sebastian smiled and focused his gaze on the road. Soon he approached a large block of flats and turned his indicator on.

"I have to admit, sir. She is one of a kind, that Irene Adler." Sebastian nodded and turned into a parking lot. Jim looked at him and peered.

"How so?" He asked. Sebastian shrugged and pulled over to park.

"She's different, you know?" Sebastian turned around and put his arm on the back of his chair, in order to reverse. "Not like most women. She's more like you. And you're not like most guys." Sebastian smiled at his joke. Jim didn't.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jim's eyes followed Sebastian as he got out of the car and opened the door for him.

"Nothing." Sebastian shook his head as Jim got out. He stared at the tall building while Sebastian opened the trunk and pulled out two suitcases.

Jim and Sebastian usually shared their temporary flats, until it was time to move to another. Sebastian always complained, but Jim was firm. It was harder to track them. They have been living in this one for a month now. The two bedroom flat was small, but liveable. Sebastian joked beforehand they'd have to rent another room just for Jim's suits. He didn't find it funny. Then again, it was usually Irene who laughed at Sebastian's little quips. She was what made his job a little bit more bearable. He didn't like her, just admired her. Like Jim, Sebastian had a feeling Irene wasn't into that sort of stuff either. And he respected it.

"Here we are." The elevator doors opened and Sebastian walked out first, taking the key out of his pocket to open the door, while juggling the suitcases. "No, it's fine. I can do it by myself." Sebastian rolled his eyes and said sarcastically. Jim looked at him.

"What?"

"Never mind Jim." Sebastian sighed. "I can order Chinese if you don't feel like eating out." He walked into the apartment and placed the suitcases on the bed. Jim followed.

Jim smiled. "Nonsense, Sebastian. Of course we are eating out. I'm meeting a very special client tonight and need your sharp eye."

"That's all you ever need me for." Sebastian sighed. Jim tilted his head.

"And don't you ever forget it." Jim reminded him, keeping him in his sight until Sebastian rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen.

"Jim!" Sebastian shouted and stormed out of the kitchen. He found Jim sitting in a large armchair with a concentrated look and legs crossed.

"Yes?" he asked.

Sebastian pointed to the kitchen. "Why is there half a salami sitting in the kitchen with enough explosives to bring down Big Ben?" Jim smiled.

"Don't be stupid." Jim reassured him. "Only enough to effectively blow up a Deli." Sebastian rubbed his eyes.

"Let me guess: Another Deli owner asked you to blow it up so he wouldn't have competition?" His voice thick with sarcasm. Jim frowned and looked up.

"How did you know?"

"Jesus! People are killing people for the stupidest reasons nowadays! It's not like it's even special anymore."

"Whatever keeps me in business." Jim smiled and stood up. "Are you growing a conscience, my little shooter?" Sebastian narrowed his eyes. "Because you know what I'll have to do if that happens." Jim reached up (for he was at least 30cm shorter) and wrapped his hand around Sebastian's throat and gripped it. Sebastian face remained blank. Jim smiled. "Quite content, are we?"

Sebastian replied firmly. "You won't kill me." He smiled and walked away.

"And why is that?" Jim asked curiously and sat back in his former position. Sebastian stopped but didn't turn around.

"Because I'd kill you first." Jim smiled and let out a high-pitched laugh.


	10. Chapter 10: The First Day

Irene rolled up the sleeves of her ill fitting uniform and swallowed while standing between the school gates. In addition to moving houses, Irene was placed in another school – Jim's. Irene was too proud to let her fear show, but still didn't take a step. She glanced at the other children. Loud, noisy, messy and annoying. She missed the calmness.

"Scared, Irene?" She frowned and spun around, seeing Jim's smug face behind her.

"No!" She firmly replied. He laughed and walked past her, stopping at the gates. He lifted a foot and smugly stepped inside the gates. He motioned Irene to do the same thing. She stared at him and shook her head. Jim rolled his eyes and turned, walking towards the school, leaving her behind. Irene swallowed and her eyes watered. Jim never looked back.

"Are you alright?" A young boy stepped out from behind the gates shyly. He was a little bit taller than her with messy blonde hair. His blue eyes sparkled.

"No." Irene repeated quietly. He smiled and stood next to her.

"It's not that hard, see?" He took her hand and lifted on foot forward, gently placing it on the ground. Irene breathed in and followed, gripping the boy's hand tightly. She stepped forward, closing her eyes. She slowly opened her eyes and smiled.

"Thank you." She beamed at the boy. "Passing through those gates alone would have killed me otherwise." She blinked her eyes as the boy look confused. "Only the support of a prince would have prevented my death." Irene shook the boy's hand and starting walking. The boy held her back.

"Wait –what?" He looked so confused.

"I am a beautiful princess who is sent away to a dark and terrible castle." She pointed at the school dramatically. "However, I must cross the gates which are made out of..." She thought about it, "Horseradish."

"Horseradish?" He repeated. Irene nodded.

"I don't like horseradish. Anyway, its poison to me, and I need a prince to help protect me so I can get through the gates." Irene smiled and continued walking away. The boy raced up and touched her shoulder.

"My name is Sebastian Moran. Yours?" He asked. Irene smiled and opened her mouth.

"Irene Adler. And don't worry. I won't tell anyone." She winked and walked.

"Tell anyone what?" Sebastian asked. Irene turned around and grinned.

"That you wet your bed." She cheekily clicked her tongue and ran off, leaving Sebastian dumbstruck.

**LATER**

It was lunchtime. Irene survived the first half of the day with little success. She didn't make any friends. They all thought she was weird. Then again, it probably wasn't normal for a ten year old to be able to tell if the teacher smoked a packet of cigarettes a day. She wasn't impressed and told her to stay behind. Irene wasn't the only one though. A boy, her age, was also in trouble. From the way the teacher talked to him he was in it often. The boy wasn't in Irene class for she hasn't seen him before.

"Today you two will just clean the board, understand?" The teacher, who's name was Miss Olsen, told Irene and the boy. "Maybe then we will grow some manners." She turned and walked up to the back of the classroom and opened a cabinet. Before, Miss Olsen gave Irene a cloth and spray and the boy a polisher. They started their punishment.

"Hi." Irene said to the boy. He turned to her, looked up and down and resumed his work. Irene frowned and tried again. "What are you in for?" The boy looked up and smiled.

"You wouldn't understand." He shrugged, smug. Irene tilted her head. The boy reminded her so much of Jim.

"Tell me." She grinned. The boy blinked and returned it.

"I told the whole class that Miss Olsen wasn't a natural brunette. She got offended and huffed." The boy looked over to Miss Olsen, unaware of the children's conversation.

"Really? I got in trouble because I said that she smokes up to a pack of cigarettes a day." The boy's smile faded.

"No she doesn't. I would have known that." His eyes narrowed.

Irene smiled. "How?" The boy pouted his lip.

"Her fingers. There are brown stains. Obviously from hair dye. Her eyebrows are of a lighter shade." Irene laughed.

"That's all? Not much to go off."

"And about your claim?" the boy retorted.

"Those stains? Not from hair dye. My mother dyes her hair and those stains are the wrong colour. More like from constantly holding a cigarette. Her eyebrows are not lighter, they are thinner. Plus, she clearly has smoker's teeth."

The boy's eyes were wide open. "But-?"

"I just know." Irene smirked.

"You're smart." The boy said. "Like, me smart."

"Thank you." Irene tried to understand. "I take that as a compliment."

"I'm Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

"That's a funny name." Irene wrinkled her nose. The boy puffed up.

"Well, what's yours?"

"Irene Adler."

"Well, Irene. That was a lucky shot." Sherlock replied. Irene looked over to the teacher.

"Not really. I do stuff like that all the time." Sherlock seemed interested.

"What can you tell about me?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"You?" Irene repeated. "Um." Irene scratched her head and looked Sherlock up and down. "Not much actually. You seem okay." She shrugged. "Except for that mark on your neck." Sherlock froze. Irene smiled. It just poked out from underneath Sherlock's blue scarf. She could tell he was trying to hide it. "Is it a bruise? A scratch?" Sherlock looked down. "I think it is a bruise. Does Sherlock have a little bully?" Irene laughed but stopped when Sherlock nodded. "Who?" Irene asked softly, embarrassed for laughing.

"Jim." Sherlock said, not looking into her eyes. Irene repeated the name.

"But I thought Jim was nice." Sherlock shook his head.

"He's mean." Irene pouted.

"I think we can fix that. You are coming with me for lunch and we'll see how tough little Jimmy is."


	11. Chapter 11: The First Day II

John scowled at the morning glare and shoved his head into his pillow. He considered going back to sleep but something stopped him – the alarm didn't go off. That, and there was a weird smell in the air. He leapt out of bed, falling over a pair of shoes in the process. Shoving his dressing gown on, he opened his bedroom door and raced into the kitchen. His jaw dropped.

There sitting at a _clean_ kitchen table was Sherlock. He had a scowl on his face and his was still dressed in his pyjamas. His glare extended to the other side of the kitchen. John couldn't see, but he had a pretty clear idea of who it was.

"Wakey wakey eggs and bakey." Said Irene, smiling at John as she placed two plates on the table. Sherlock still glared. John didn't move. "It's going to get cold." She sang cheerily and turned on the kettle. John slowly entered the kitchen. The experiments, chemicals and equipment – it was all gone. That was why Sherlock is angry, thought John. He sat down across from Sherlock whose eyes bore straight through him. John moved his chair uncomfortably. "Here we are," Irene announced as she placed down a bowl of bacon and a round plate of eggs and toast, "Eat up. Especially you, Sherlock." Irene gave Sherlock a look before she turned around and took the jug of the boiler. She poured a cup for herself and fished around for two other cups.

"I'm not hungry." Sherlock wined and folded his arms. Irene turned around and also folded her arms.

"Listen, princess peach. You either eat it willing or it is going down your throat forcibly." She pulled a serious face. "Your choice." Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"No." Irene smiled and walked over to him. Sherlock grew a little nervous. Irene picked up a fork and poked some bacon on it.

"Open the tunnel!" She mooed him in a baby voice. John nearly choked on his food and Sherlock's frown grew deeper. Irene poked his mouth with the fork. "Choo choo! The train is coming! Come on! Open up!" She poked him harder and harder. Each time was more annoying than the last. "Choo choo!" She whistled and Sherlock snatched the fork from her. "Choo-."

"Fine! Here, look I'm eating it! Just shut up!" Sherlock shoved it in his mouth and sulked. Irene smiled and walked back to the jug. She found two mugs and poured coffee. She sat them beside the boys. John thanked her while Sherlock ignored it.

"Say thanks or you will be wearing it." Irene raised an eyebrow. Sherlock mumbled something.

Breakfast was soon over and Irene washed and cleaned. John walked back to his room to change while Sherlock stayed.

"Where is my stuff?" Irene sat down at the table.

"I put it away. Organised things."

"You had no right." Sherlock remarked.

"I don't think you know how housekeeping works. I clean up, organise things."

"For all I know, you could be sending information to your old friend." Sherlock leant in. "Moriarty." Irene sat there and blinked her innocent eyelashes.

"What? That you have three-eyed rats? Wow, hard-core stuff right there. Listen Locky we'll compromise, okay? I won't touch your stuff, unless it is a health hazard. Deal?" Irene stretched out her hand. Sherlock looked at it.

"Deal." He didn't shake it and walked away. "And don't call me 'Locky'."

"What about 'Shirley'? Has a nice ring to it!" Irene grinned.

"No!" Sherlock shouted.

**LATER**

"John, we're leaving now!" Sherlock called out to John in his bedroom. He tied his scarf around his neck and opened the main door. He heard a sneeze behind him. Irene rubbed her nose and sniffed.

"Why is there so much dust? Have you ever heard of a duster?" Irene sighed as she brushed the dirt on a skull sitting on the mantle piece away.

"Careful with that." Sherlock reminded her.

"Coming." Said John as he walked past Irene. "Hey." He said. Irene nodded.

"Don't worry, your precious skull will be in safe hands. Where are you going, by the way?" Irene asked, curious.

"St Bart's for a moment." Sherlock replied and put on his coat.

"Is it a case?" Irene asked and started waving her duster around like a sword. "I like a good challenge."

"Shame, you are not coming." Sherlock retorted. Irene frowned and made puppy dog eyes.

"Please? I won't say anything! I will be as quiet as a mime." She begged. Sherlock smiled.

"No." Irene narrowed her eyes.

"Fine. Just don't be looking forward to seeing your skull when you get back." She turned around and kept dusting. John walked down the stairs with Sherlock still looking at Irene.

"Do anything to that skull and I'll replace it with yours." He left with Irene smiling to herself.

She heard the front door slam and hummed to herself. She shouldn't be stayed at the flat _cleaning_ while something exciting was happening. At that same moment, a strange itch appeared on the back of her neck and Irene frowned. That itch always materialised when something awesome was afoot. She was the _housekeeper_, she couldn't just leave. But she wanted to.

"Oh screw it." Irene threw away her duster and took her coat off the hook. She fished out her pocket watch and peered at the time. 11:30 on the dot. She gave five minutes before leaving the flat. Irene took her helmet of the couch and slipped on her gloves. She walked out the front and placed her hand lovingly on her motorcycle. Irene took it off when people started looking. She smiled and sat on her bike, kicking off the stand and revved it.


	12. Chapter 12: Molly's Call

"Sherlock, why did you really hire Miss Adler?" John asked when they hopped into the taxi. Sherlock shrugged and clicked his seatbelt on.

"She's interesting. She has a connection with Moriarty and I need her around to find out." John didn't seem satisfied with the answer.

"Fine, just try not to make a genius completion or something out of it. I don't want to return home from Sarah's and the block is on fire." Sherlock chuckled.

"Oh I doubt she could out smart me." John raised an eyebrow and held up his fingers.

"Pot plant in the alleyway, breaking into our flat, tricking you about the cat, moved your stuff, cooked you breakfast _and _made you eat it. Shall I go on?" John smiled at Sherlock's grumpy face.

"Fine. Remember John she has only worked one day: there is plenty of time." Sherlock smiled deviously as the taxi pulled over.

"St Bart's, sir." The driver said. John thanked and paid him, Sherlock leaping out of the car.

"Shall we?" Sherlock motioned and John followed.

Irene watched them go in. Naturally, her bike got there first, but she waited until they were out of sight. She parked it and walked through the entrance. The security guard immediately asked for id. Irene smiled confidently and pulled out on of her many fake ids from her bag. The guard nodded and waved her through.

"Not very fancy, is it?" She curled her lip as she walked down a corridor. "Where's little Locky?" She wondered and walked into a science lab. No not a science lab, just a morgue. But no Sherlock. Irene frowned in disappointment. However, a young woman was standing over a body on a metal table. Irene stared at the woman. Tired eyes, tight lips, a nervous lip quiver and small feet. Irene looked her up and down. _Single and hating it,_ Irene concluded. The woman suddenly looked up.

"Can I help you?" She asked. Irene shook her head.

"Sherlock Holmes. Know where he is?" Irene smiled. The woman however did not

"No I don't." she said rather stiffly and looked Irene up and down. "Why? What do you want with him?" Irene's smile grew wider. _Jealousy._

"Never mind, dear." Irene waved and turned around. She walked down another corridor and instantly ducked. Sherlock and John were sitting in a lab while Sherlock had his eye in a microscope. He waved his hand while speaking to John who had his arms folded and tried to follow. Sherlock suddenly jumped up and raced out of the room, thankfully not down the corridor where Irene was hiding. She straightened up and walked into the room. John looked surprised.

"Miss Adler? What are you doing here?" he asked and walked around the table to meet her. She smiled.

"Irene, John. We know each other well enough now." Irene reminded him. "I was bored. This looked more interesting. What is happening?" She asked and looked into the microscope.

"Wish I knew." John shrugged. "Can't make head or tail of it." Irene smiled.

"You're so cute when you're clueless." Irene shook her head. John blushed slightly.

"Uh, thanks?" He said confused.

"John! I found it! It was iron poisoning..." Sherlock stopped when he saw Irene. She pouted her lips and tapped the microscope.

"You're looking at the wrong thing." She said, Sherlock frowning.

"No I'm not." Sherlock walked over and nudged Irene away from the microscope. "Go away."

"How polite." Stated Irene.

"You're supposed to be at the flat cleaning."

"Cleaning?" Irene shouted and held up her arms, surprising John. "How boring!" She rolled her eyes. "Rather be here amongst the excitement." She rubbed her hands together. At that moment, the woman from before walked in with a coffee. She nearly dropped it when she saw Irene.

"What is she doing here?" She said defensively in a cold tone. Irene blinked in surprise. The woman ignored the fact that Irene was standing there.

"She knows I can hear her, right?" Irene said to John who stared at her.

"Calm down Molly." Sherlock rolled his eyes and extended his hand for the coffee. Irene mind raced.

"I'm just here to pick up Sherlocky for our date. Isn't that right, snooky?" Irene made pouty lips and kissed Sherlock's cheek lovingly. He nearly dropped his coffee. Molly turned red. "Oh, you are so handsome! Isn't he handsome, Molly olly?" Irene wrapped her arms around Sherlock and made a face at Molly who shoved hers into her hands and ran out of the lab. Irene shrieked in laughter while Sherlock grabbed antibacterial wipes and rubbed his cheek with them. John looked a little angry.

"That was cold Irene Adler and you know it." John said. Irene titled her head.

"So? A little fun won't hurt anyone."

"It will hurt her." John pointed in the direction in which Molly just left. Irene waved a hand.

"Girl's got to get real and grow up sometime. Anyway, is this for a case?"

Sherlock sighed in disappointment. "Not really. The man died of iron poisoning. Case closed." Irene looked at the file and smiled.

"Did you check his belly button?" She asked and tapped the file on the desk. Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"No... I didn't, Molly did the autopsy." Irene rolled her eyes.

"Molly Molly. Honestly. This man didn't die from iron poisoning. Okay, well he did but he didn't come across it accidently. It was injected into him. Via a needle into his belly button."

"That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard." Sherlock's tone bore through Irene.

Irene defended herself. "Not really. People try anything not to get caught nowadays. I even know your man. Billy Connell. Seen this before back in Ireland. Seems like he moved."

"How come you haven't said this before?" John asked. Irene shrugged,

"Who believes a teenager that claimed a man killed people by injecting stuff into their belly buttons? Hell, you didn't even believe me now."

Sherlock stared at Irene. "Fine, I'll ask Molly to run a scan again."

"Don't say that Irene told you so. I have a feeling Molly doesn't like her." Irene smiled as John and her left the lab, with Sherlock following close behind.

**LATER**

Molly watched Sherlock leave with that woman and felt the tears roll down her cheeks. It was so _unfair_. Here she was, giving Sherlock anything he wanted, unauthorized autopsies, coffee and favours then this _woman_ comes along and steals him away! Molly rubbed her eyes. She turned around and ran into her small office and searched for a number on her desk. She smiled evilly as she searched. Molly knew a way to get rid of her. A perfect way. How ironic, that stupid girl mocking her then ending up on Molly's autopsy table. Sherlock would forget about her and she will finally have him to herself. Like it should be. Molly even considered getting rid of John as well. But the woman seemed more important at the moment. She let out a small sound of glee. On a sticky note was the name. Molly nervously dialled the number.

"Hi Jim, it's Molly. No, I'm good. I'm asking a kind of big favour of you." Molly paused as the other line talked. "Can you get rid of someone for me? Her name is Irene Adler."


	13. Chapter 13: Jim's Answer

**Or Irene's Invitation**

Jim smiled on the other side of the line. _Her name is Irene Adler_. Those words echoed in his brain. Not only is she _not _staying away from Sherlock, but she has managed to become a target. Jim's. He rolled his eyes. She always managed to find trouble.

"Client, Jim?" Sebastian asked from the ladder. The main light bulb had broken in the flat and Sebastian set upon fixing it, with Jim semi holding the ladder.

"20 pounds you can't guess who it is." Jim challenged, grinning at Sebastian. He scratched his chin.

"Hm, someone we know obviously." Sebastian shook his head. 'Dunno. Give up."

"Our little friend Miss Irene Adler." Sebastian nearly fell off the ladder.

"Irene? Are you serious?" He shouted. "How did she manage that?" Jim shrugged.

"Apparently, someone hasn't being staying away from Sherlock."

"Still, is it enough to kill her?" Sebastian climbed down.

"Oh she has done plenty of things that deserve her to be hung, let alone killed." Jim recalled.

"But why hasn't she yet?" Sebastian asked, interrupting Jim but bring up a valid point. Jim didn't reply.

"I don't know." He admitted and sat down on a chair, head in hand. "She's simple enough to kill." He mumbled a couple of points but not reaching a conclusion.

"What are you going to do about the client?" Jim smiled.

"I don't technically have to kill Irene, just scare her enough to satisfy the client."

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. "How are you going to do that?"

"Dr John Watson, of course." Jim smiled evilly and placed his fingertips together.

**LATER**

"You are staying here. John and I have to go to the bank."

"My god you are like a married couple." Irene rolled her eyes and yanked on the handcuff that was attached to the window frame – Sherlock's idea so she couldn't follow them again. "One never goes out without the other. By the way, I can actually sue you for chaining me up. The workplace union will love this!" Irene called as Sherlock slammed the door. The chain was long enough for her to move, just not too far out of the door.

"This is ridiculous." Irene yanked again. "I'm like a sitting duck. Come and kill me Jim! Might as well, easy target!" Irene yelled out, feeling like an idiot. "Oh well." Irene sighed and picked up a broom. "Might as well start."

Irene fell asleep after five hours. The flat was spotless and Irene even organised Sherlock's newspaper clippings. She set up file cabinets and shelves. She washed the dirty and dodgy clothes and folded them in drawers. Scrubbed the floor and vacuumed the carpet. Irene even made muffins. She had fallen into an exhausted sleep on the couch and didn't wake up even when the boys come back.

"Wow, I have to admit. She knows how to clean."

"Of course she does. She's a woman." Sherlock smirked and peered at the sleeping Irene. John took a blanket out of the newly organised linen cupboard and placed it on Irene. She smiled in her sleep and rolled over. John pulled out the freshly bought milk and poured glasses. Sherlock sat down and examined the muffins. He bit into it, swallowing large chunks and ended up eating three. John had some also with his milk. He then pulled out his laptop and turned it on. Surprisingly, Irene had stuck a post-it note on it. It read: "John, please don't use my name in your blog. IA will do fine :)" John was impressed. He hadn't even told her about the blog.

"It's three." Sherlock said, looking at the clock. "Wake her." Sherlock was clearly uncomfortable with Irene passed out on his couch.

"Fine. If she kills me, you're first on my list to haunt when I come back." John rolled his eyes and gently shook Irene' shoulders.

"Hm." She moaned. "It is three already?"

"We no longer need your services. You can leave." Sherlock said shortly. John hushed him.

"You don't need to be here everyday. How about three times a week?" Irene smiled and stretched.

"Perfect. It will keep me busy." She stood up and folded the blanket. "Hey, crazy thought. Why don't you guys have dinner at mine?" she suggested, looking hopeful. "I'll cook, you just come."

"Would it be safe?" Sherlock stared at her seriously. "Being ambushed is not on my list of things to do tonight."

Irene waved her hand. "Oh calm down. Just dinner. Plus, my house is pretty awesome." Irene picked up a piece of paper and pen. "Here." She scribbled an address. "7 sharp. You wouldn't want to miss it." Irene took the key from Sherlock hand and unlocked the chain and picked up her helmet and bag from the door.

"Miss what?" John asked as Irene left.

"The sunset." Irene popped her head back in and winked.


	14. Chapter 14: The Consequences

Sherlock was nervous. He didn't like Jim, he hurt him. Irene had made silly faces and pointed out funny things about people but it hardly helped. She frowned.

"Where does Jim sit?" Sherlock stood in the middle of the playground and pointed to a large tree, most of its lower branches quite a few feet off the ground and hidden by leaves. Irene nodded.

"I see. Come on." Irene took Sherlock's cold hand and almost dragged him towards to tree. Sure enough, sitting in the branches was Jim Moriarty and the blonde boy Irene had met earlier, Sebastian Moran. They were laughing to each other and didn't notice the pair. Irene coughed loudly.

"Jim!" Irene shouted. "You get your butt down here now! I have a bone to pick with you!" Sherlock looked at her in surprise and admiration. Jim sneered.

"Oh really? Why should I?" He grinned down at them. Irene held her ground.

"Because you did something mean to Sherlock Holmes here, and I want you to apologise. Now."

Jim waved a hand. "Unfortunately Irene dear, you will find I never laid a finger on Sher_loser_. That's why I have Sebastian." Jim motioned to him, who held up a slingshot. Sherlock hid behind Irene who stared at it curiously. Sebastian's other hand was shoved into a bag and he pulled out an acorn. Irene swallowed. Jim glanced at Sebastian, and nodded. He aimed and fired at Irene who held up her hands and amazingly caught it. Irene had closed her eyes and slowly opened them, smiling. She held up the acorn.

"Be a boy and come down." Irene said forcefully. Jim frowned.

"I don't project myself in trivial matters."

"Cause you don't want your butt kicked?" Irene rolled her eyes. "Come on Sherlock. Not worth it." Irene turned around but Sebastian had aimed another acorn and hit her right in the head. She stumbled a bit and touched the back of her head. There was a faint trace of blood. Sherlock's eyes grew wide and Irene sniffed back tears. She stood up, faced Jim and threw the acorn, hitting him right in the left eye. He yelped and fell out of the tree. The four kids hear a _snap_ and Jim screamed. Irene grew white and tried to run, but accidently right into a teacher. It was Miss Olsen. She stared down at Irene who grew tears.

"Jim- Its wasn't me...It was Jim..."

"Silence girl! You threw the acorn, not him. You are turning into quite the brat. I shall be ringing your parents and you are coming with me!"

"Its not fair! Sherlock-!"

"Keep him out of this!" The teacher scolded her and grabbed her hand, pulled her along. Irene whipped her head around a caught Sherlock's face. It looked apologetic. She then looked at Jim's. Pure enjoyment.

Irene cried the whole afternoon. The teacher had hit her several times with the wooden ruler and made her write lines on the board until her fingers were red. Irene's eyes soon matched her hands. Her parents soon arrived and talked to Miss Olsen and the principal. Miss Olsen told her incredibly biased story while Irene dad grew silent and said nothing failing to defend his daughter.

"Now wait just a minute! Miss Olsen, is it? I have known my daughter for ten years while you have for four hours. I think I know her better than you. Have you asked for her side of the story?" Irene's mother's eyes bore into Miss Olsen, making her shrink into her seat.

"Well...I-"

"'Well I' what?" Her mother snapped. "I don't think I am in the mood to be dragged down here and hear my daughter being accused of something that might not be entirely true! My Irene is not violent, she is outspoken. Many take this as an insult and her being a brat but it is her speaking her mind!" She turned to Irene who was silently praising her mother. "Irene, would you kindly tell me what happened?"

Irene wiped the sweaty palms of her hands and glanced at Miss Olsen and the principal, who made her nervous. "Tell me, darling, not them." Her mother reassured her, calming her nerves.

"I was talking to a boy, Sherlock Holmes I think, who was telling me that Jim Moriarty had been mean to him. So I walked up to Jim, told him off and his friend decided to throw acorns at me. When that didn't work, I started to leave but he threw one at my head. It made it bleed." Irene turned around and lifted her hair, revealing the faint dried trickle of blood. Irene's mother gasped and turned red. "So, because I was angry I threw it back but I didn't mean for it to hit him. Is he alright?" Irene asked Miss Olsen whom her mother cut off.

"There! Now, I am not going to say anything about the actions of Jim Moriarty, for my husband's sake, but I can about my daughter's. It is clear that she was defending this Sherlock boy and unfortunately this was the consequence! Either you get your facts right or actually pay attention to bullying in this school!" Irene's mother stood up without another word and took Irene's cold hands. She glanced at her father and he immediately followed.

Irene followed her mother breathlessly, trying to keep up with her mother furious footsteps. She suddenly stopped and knelt down to see her daughter eye to eye. Irene grew nervous – she didn't know if she was going to be yelled at. Irene's mother broke into tears and embraced her daughter, smiling. "My beautiful and strong girl." She hugged her tightly.

"But-" Irene exclaimed. Her mother only hugged her tighter.

"I am so proud of you. Standing up for a person you just met, especially to one you know is a very brave thing to do."

"But what about daddy and Jim's daddy? Is he going to be in trouble?" Irene asked, looked up at her father's smiling face.

"I can take care of myself sweetheart." He shrugged.

"We are so proud of you. You are growing up to be a very good person Irene."


	15. Chapter 15: The Job

_You are growing up to be a very good person Irene._

_A very good person..._

Irene's mother's words echoed in her head since she left Baker Street. That day long ago has been haunting her for ages. Irene wasn't affected by the fact that she rendered Jim blind in his right eye for a week and put his arm in a cast, she was more concerned about how her mother said she was growing into a good person. Now, she wasn't so sure. Irene had chosen Jim over her mother, what was right and good. But was Jim really all the bad? Irene knew when to stop. Also she broke it off with him. She promised herself. But he kept coming back. Irene needed to tell him she wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Irene smiled. She knew the consequences of that; she'd end up dead.

Irene turned into a back street and unlocked her motorcycle. Before she took off, she remembered the muffin she had placed in her bag for later. She shoved it into her mouth and kicked off the stand. Edging out, she waited for a clear and shot out, dodging around cars and trucks until she hit the main road. _Red light, green light, roundabout, pedestrian crossing._ Irene took the normal left turn to enter the London Bridge. But, instead of continuing through, she slipped off the road into an underground channel close to the other side. As the roof was low and cramped, Irene hopped off her bike. It was pitch black but Irene knew her way around. Soon, she reached a door. Unlocking with a skeleton key she always carried around, Irene kicked open the door, motorbike by her side. It opened into a little basement like room with a staircase off to the side. Irene dumped her bike and climbed them. Soon, Irene reached a door. She grabbed the bar and pushed on it, opening it. Another small room with a lift appeared. Irene wiped her brow. It was so much work getting here. But it was worth it. Not even Jim knew about this place. The lift wasn't a metal box like most; it was a cage, with iron bars like the ones in coalmines. She lifted the lever as far it would go and waited as the lift creaked and suddenly shot up in the air. It continued until she slowly pulled down the lever. The lift creaked to a stop and Irene walked out, closing the lift door.

"God, this is exhausting." She yawned and shoved her key into another door, labelled 'IR'. She pushed it open and revealed a smallish lounge room with a couch and table. She threw her stuff on it and left the lounge room, turning left into a smaller room where she collapsed on her bed.

After an hour, Irene rubbed her tired eyes and got up, not bothering to make the bed. She took off her motorbike gear (she hadn't taken it off) and stripped to her underwear. Catching herself in the large shard of broken mirror that sat against the wall, she examined the scar that was present at the top of her left breast and travelled along her waist to her spine. Irene traced the scar with her icy fingers and pouted. She had to admit she was fond of the scar, thinking it gives her character. Whenever she looked at it, only one thing comes to mind. _Jim._

Irene quickly shook her head and slipped on a pair of jeans and flannel top, and tied her long hazel hair into a bun. She walked over to the kitchen and clicked on the jug. Tapped her fingers on the wooden bench, her eyes wondered to the ladder that sat at the far end of it. "Why not? It's a gorgeous afternoon. Be a shame to miss it." When the jug finished, Irene poured a cup of tea and placed it on the top step of the ladder. Irene herself climbed up and opened a hatch. Irene pulled herself up onto a platform, surrounded by a metre high stonewall and a couple of chairs. Behind her was a slanted stone roof where Irene climbed onto and sipped her tea. Sitting here, she could see most of London, the harbour, the buildings and even some of the distant hills. Despite being exposed, Irene felt safe, hidden even from the prying eyes of Jim. She smiled about Jim trying to find this place. A small _buzz_ was heard and Irene was surprised to find her mobile in her breast pocket. She slid the screen up and read a text message.

_Mind doing a little task for me? (heart)_

- _JM_

Irene frowned. She only knew one person with those initials and a heart at the end of his texts. Jim Moriarty. What would he want her for? Probably something highly dangerous, a test to her skills and very valuable. _Damn it_, she sighed. The itch had returned, making her scratch her neck. Irene decided to text back.

_Depends, Jimbo._

_ -IA_

Irene smiled. She knew it pissed Jim when she used her nickname for him. Soon enough, another _buzz _was heard.

_Banks, money, lasers, guards and diamonds. Interested, my dear? (heart)_

_ -JM_

Irene punched the stone roof, regretting it as her hand throbbed. She chewed her lip. _An adventure!_ She smiled in glee. How exciting. Jim probably wants her to rob a bank or something. Strange, banks were hardly worth her skill. Must be a very well-known one, maybe a vault with a lot of valuable items in it.

_I'm in._

_ -IA_

Irene's hands shook as she sent the message. Was she heading into a trap? Into Jim? Into jail? Irene still couldn't keep smiling. She could hardly wait for it. _Buzz!_

_Fantastic, sweetheart. I will be sending someone with the details shortly. (heart)_

_ -JM_

Irene smiled and replied.

_Send yourself, sweetheart._

_ -IA_

She waited for the reply. Irene hoped Jim read the 'sweetheart' with sarcasm as it was intended.

_Always so difficult, aren't you? As you wish then dear. I shall be seeing you very soon. (heart)_

_-JM_

Irene clapped her hands. "Lovely. Just lovely." She said to herself and drained the last of her tea. A thought crossed Irene's mind. Why did Jim put hearts in his texts? He certainly wouldn't with anyone else. Irene shrugged. She supposed she was more important than most people to Jim. The thought made Irene happy inside, but not for long. Why should she care? "Oh shit." Irene smacked herself in the head. She had just finished making a promise to herself to stay _away_ from Jim but there she goes accepting a bank robber gig! Why, why, why? Irene knew she was mad, but couldn't help it. "I'm going to get myself killed one day." Irene smiled. Technically, she would have been killed years ago. She's just living on borrowed time.

**_MEANWHILE_**

Jim danced around the flat. "She said yes! My darling Irene said yes! She even called me 'sweetheart'!"

"Didn't you know she was going to say that?" Said Sebastian from the bathroom. He was brushing his hair while Jim popped in and out to tell him to latest messages from Irene like a giggling school girl. He smiled. Only Irene could get Jim this happy.

"Oh I cannot wait! Me and Irene, just like old times! Committing crimes together, dodging the laws, breaking the rules. Oh how I love it!" Jim hummed a little song to himself as he lay on the bed, holding a piece of paper to his face. It was a photograph, from a long time ago. It had Jim and Irene grinning into the camera as an explosion was happening behind them. Irene had one hand on her hip, while another was around Jim's neck. Jim had one hand on a little remote with the other around Irene's slim waist. Jim smiled and brought the photograph to his face, almost to see if he could smell the scent of Irene Adler. He frowned when he couldn't and threw the photograph on the bed.

"Jim, how long until Mycroft Holmes comes back from America?" Sebastian asked. Jim smiled and placed his hands under his chin.

"Soon. Just in time for Irene's little robbery." Sebastian suddenly stopped and leapt out of the bathroom.

"What?" He shouted and gripped Jim's suit, pushing him down. "Do you mean you are setting a _trap_ for Irene?" Jim grinned as he eyes lit up.

"Of course. Why else would I have asked her? She has been out of the game so long, she needs something fierce bring get her back in."

"By making her commit a robbery right in front of the British government in human form?"

"Who else?" Jim laughed but stopped when Sebastian threw himself at him.

"How could you do that to her? She is your friend!" Jim stopped, staring at Sebastian but smiled and rolled over; throwing Sebastian off him and sitting on his chest, almost like a cat.

"My little minion, you will do well to remember that I call the shots around here. What I say goes, okay?" Jim leaned in, taking in Sebastian's slightly nervous face. "Irene is a very good girl. She will be fine. Now, you?" Jim leaned in closer, less then an inch from his shooter's face. "Not so much." Jim reached up his right hand and cupped the side of Sebastian's face. He gave it a slight slap and jumped off him, heading for the bathroom and closing the door, not before giving Sebastian a raised of his eyebrows as he closed it. Sebastian collapsed on the bed. He could feel his pulse racing, his pants becoming tight. Not because of Jim of course. But just for one split second, Sebastian imagined the hand on his face, the body against his, was Irene's. Sebastian smiled and closed his eyes.


	16. Chapter 16: The Dinner

Sherlock and John stared in confusion into the underground channel on the London Bridge. Both of them received directions, but it stopped there.

"I must admit, I have been over, under and through this bridge so many times and yet I have not come across this."

"This can't be right. We must have missed a turn-"

"Hello, boys!" called Irene as she emerged from the tunnel, flashlight in hand. John had shouted in surprise. Sherlock stared at him. "Great to see you found the tunnel. Come in, come in." Irene turned back around and clicked on the flashlight, leading the way. Sherlock remained on guard, while John stayed close to him, slightly afraid in case anything happened.

"Are you aware that you are clinging to me?"

"Oh! Sorry, I-"

"No, it's alright..." Sherlock awkwardly said and actually moved closer to John. Irene raised her eyebrows and walked through the first door, across the basement like room and up the stairs.

"Will be there soon."

"Really?" John asked, hand on the rail. Irene frowned.

"No." She admitted and continued until the group hit the lift. She ushered them in and pulled the lever, scaring both John and Sherlock with the suddenness and loudness of the creaky lift. "Here." She smiled and walked out of the lift into her 'house'. "Home sweet home." She gestured around. Irene had placed a dining table behind the couch, which had three candlesticks, as well as glasses and plates. "What do you think?" Irene asked nervously.

"It's alright-"

"Its great." John hit Sherlock's chest. "Shall we sit?" Irene smiled and took a place at the head of the table, while Sherlock sat on her left, John on her right. After a few minutes Irene excused herself to bring in wine. Sherlock played with his cutlery.

"Is this alright?" Irene said as she returned with a bottle filled in rich red liquid. John looked at the bottle and nodded.

"Wow, that's a good one. Must have cost a fortune."

"Only if you buy it." Sherlock said as Irene poured him a glass. John kicked him.

"Excuse Sherlock. Of course you bought it." Irene smiled as she poured John's glass.

"I didn't actually." She laughed at John stunned face and corrected herself. "I'm joking, it was a gift. Relax!" She sat down and began conversation. "You must think it weird living in London Bridge, but it is actually very beneficial."

"How?" John took a sip of wine. Irene shrugged.

"Very hard to fine, easy to hide. I'm not really a people person, you could say." Irene clapped and changed the conversation. "Now! I hope roast is okay. Lamb with mint sauce is a weakness, I must admit." John brightened.

"Yes! Sounds great. I haven't had a good roast in ages." John glanced at Sherlock.

"Not like you could cook in that kitchen before anyway." Irene smiled through her glass. Sherlock hadn't taken a sip, his eyes taking in the room. "Please try the wine, it is delicious."

"Is it poison?" Sherlock retorted and picked up the glass.

"John would be dead." Irene pointed out.

"Not all poison is quick." Sherlock replied back. Irene smiled.

"Touché." She waited until Sherlock took a sip. He swallowed and frowned.

"Its fine." He said, avoiding her eyes. A small _ding_ was heard.

Irene shot up, "It's ready! Hang on, I'll be back soon."

Irene served up generous amounts of juicy lamb while John took potatoes and pumpkin from a plate. He nudged Sherlock who held out his plate. Irene smiled and gave him some lamb. Sherlock mastered a small smile back. He picked up some potatoes and smothered the whole thing in gravy. He took his knife and fork and, to Irene surprise, eat his dinner like a proper gentleman. She was impressed.

"Personally, I find nothing more attractive than a man who can eat properly. And let me tell you, you're both are gorgeous." Irene winked at John and Sherlock, who nearly choked. Sherlock's cheeks turned slightly pink.

After dinner, Irene cleared the table and told them to finish their wine. "We shall be having dessert upstairs. Grab your coat and follow me to the kitchen." Sherlock looked over at John who shrugged and threw his coat back on. Sherlock picked up his trench and followed suit. As the two came in, Irene had just finished pouring a steaming brown liquid into three cups that were sitting on a wooden tray. "Best hot chocolate you will ever taste." She smiled and walked over to the ladder, carrying the tray skilfully in her hands. She easily climbed up and called John and Sherlock to follow.

"Wow." Breathing John as he reached the top. "Amazing." Since it was dusk, the sun had cast a rich red and orange hue over London, creating a beautiful scene. The water was turning dark and the shadows from the buildings cast over one another.

"I know, right?" Irene said and gave Sherlock and John a mug. "Take a sip, breathe it in." Irene climbed on the roof and patted, her way of calling Sherlock and John over. They followed and the trio sat on the stone roof, watching the skies and drinking hot chocolate. Meanwhile, Irene checked her pocket watch. "Just in time. Watch the sun." Irene smiled and pointed to the descending sun. In a span of five minutes, the sun sailed away from the busy city, turning the skies from deep red to a soft pink and blue. The sun slowly turned from whole, to half then disappeared all together. The sky quietened, dimming and dimming until the famous blue stained the sky. Irene sighed. "Beautiful?" She hummed to herself and sipped her coco. John stared at her.

"I had no idea you were so deep." He smiled Irene returned it.

"Silly, though. It's just a sunset. But I always remind myself they are always different. No other like it." She turned to Sherlock who sculled his coco. "Thoughts?"

Sherlock was about to answer, but John cut him off. "He doesn't care about stuff like that." He smiled. "The movement of the earth and the sun isn't a priority in his hard drive."

"On the contrary, I though it was..." Sherlock struggled to find the right word, "Poetic." Irene stared at him Sherlock slowly glanced her way. He gave a sheepish grin.

"How... gay." Irene smiled and laughed. She put an arm around him and pulled him into a tight hug. "Just joking. It was sweet." She let him go and drained her coco. "Finished?" She asked John who nodded but had a milk moustache. Irene and Sherlock laughed. "Suits you."

"It really does. Get one tomorrow." Sherlock smiled. John frowned.

"You get one." He retorted. Sherlock laughed.

"Not a bad idea. Might be easier for people I don't want to notice me.

"Like who?" Irene asked.

"Mycroft for one." Sherlock said. It was a simple statement, but for Irene it pulled back memories. Her fight with Jim. Her supposed target. She coughed uncomfortably. Sherlock stared at her.

"I'm fine. Wrong pipe." She punched her chest. Sherlock peered closer.

"I see." Irene quickly looked at her watch again.

"We should be heading down stairs. A rooftop is no place at night. Catch a chill. Plus I don't really like the night. Hate it." Irene stared up at the moon for a little while until she shook her head and collected her thoughts. She collected the mugs and headed back downstairs. Sherlock and John took off their coats and sat on the lounge. Irene scratched her chin and quickly went into her room. "Guys, I have an idea that would be _heaps_ of fun."

John shifted uncomfortably. "Let's play Scrabble!" Irene ran out of the room and returned with the board game in her hands. "Come on! It will be heaps of fun!" Before they could reply, Irene cleared the coffee table and set it up. John had taken the wine and poured more glasses. Irene rubbed her hands. "Let's begin."

...

"Sherlock, I don't think 'anterifle' is a word." Irene pouted. Sherlock curled his lip.

"Is too."

"Dictionary time!" Irene shouted and stood up.

"Okay I made up the word. I had nothing." Sherlock frowned. "I'll just put 'rifle' then." Sherlock placed the words on the board. "Your turn, Irene." She frowned and sat back down, rubbing her earlobe.

"Aha!" She smiled triumphantly. 'Xenophobia.' 160 points." Sherlock's eyes widened.

"What?" He frowned. "Oh!" He moaned. "I give up."

"Ways to win Scrabble deleted from your 'hard drive'?" Irene laughed and did air commas on the words 'hard drive'. Sherlock pouted.

"At least I don't have to worry battling a criminal to a Scrabble match."

"Good thing to, if you had, you'd be killed." John laughed and hiccupped. Irene curled her lip.

"Slow down, Johnny boy." Irene herself hiccupped. "Okay, John sends a good message." Irene stood up and put the wine away. "I think it is time to leave. I really don't see this game winning in either of your favors. Plus, its ten thirty. Early start tomorrow." Sherlock smiled and stood up.

"Far enough. Thank you for the dinner. It was surprisingly good."

Irene smiled. "Surprisingly? I'm insulted. Can't a housekeeper be good cook as well?"

"And good dinner host. It was great." John said and buttoned up his coat. "See you tomorrow, Irene." He held out his hand to shake, but Irene pulled him into a hug.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Johnny boy." Irene smiled and let go, extending her arms in Sherlock's directions. He saw and quickly shook his head.

"Sorry, I don't do hugs-"

"Nonsense." Irene rushed into Sherlock and squeezed tightly. "Everybody hugs." She closed her eyes and then released, showing them the door. "Should I show you the way down?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I remember." He tapped his skull. "Down the lift, across the basement and out the tunnel?" Irene winked and clicked her fingers.

"You got it." She smiled and waited until Sherlock and John entered the lift and pulled down the lever. She waved and then retreated to her room. She packed away the board game and threw the dirty dishes in the sink. She was about to go to bed but a buzz was heard.

_Midnight (heart)_

__ -JM_ _

Irene dropped her pjs and raced out the door, picking up her helmet in the process. _Jim is expecting her to be at the other house! He doesn't know about this one! _Irene checked her watch. 11 on the dot. She had less than an hour to get over to it. She jumped in the lift, shot down and sprinted across the basement. Irene suddenly stopped. Wouldn't John and Sherlock she are leaving? She checked her watch. No, they left a while ago. She whipped her helmet on and jumped on the bike, not bothering about the narrow tunnel. Amazing, Irene had managed not to clip the walls with her bike and leapt out of the tunnel. Angry beeps and swears where heard as Irene shot out of nowhere and joined the traffic. She dodged in and out of cars and trucks and soon made to the main road. She accelerated until she hit the back streets and finally made it to Charles rd. Irene's heart was in her stomach. The familiar black car wasn't there. Yet. She parked it and raced into the house. She collapsed on the lounge. 11:55. She sat herself upright and positioned herself so when Jim walked through the door, he would walk right into her. 11:58. Irene smoothed out her hair. She picked some fluff off her top. 11:59. Irene closed her eyes and focused.

_Ding, dong. _12:00, right on time. Irene had left the door unlocked so she wouldn't have to get up. Sebastian walked in first, holding out the door for Jim. He strolled in, suits in all and smiled at Irene on the couch. She crossed her legs.

"Jimbo." She smiled and glanced at Sebastian. "Sebbie."

"Irene." Jim replied and sat on a chair that Sebastian had brought over. He too crossed his legs and addressed Irene. "So, my little criminal agreed?"

"I'm not your criminal." Irene sharply retorted. Jim grinned.

"Oh, you said yes my dear."

Irene held up a hand. "You know me, Jimmy. I get bored."

"Then I guarantee this won't be dull for a minute." Jim winked. He reached into his suit's hidden breast pocket and pulled out a file. "Here." He handed to it Irene. "Take a look. Collect your thoughts."

Irene eyed the file and took it from him. She flipped through. The file was filled with bank security cameras, vault codes, guard's shifts and blueprints of the vault. Irene frowned. "Seems doable." She shrugged. "Simple drop 'n' take. The security cameras reset every five seconds so I will have to freeze it and play it on a loop..." Irene talked more to herself than Jim. With every word, Jim's smile grew wider.

"Oh, how I love it when you talk dirty." His words caught both Irene and Sebastian off guard. She raised an eyebrow. "So smart. Such a smart girl." Jim almost purred. "Anything else you require?"

Irene suddenly smiled. "Why me? Come on Jimmy, I can't be the only one who can do this." She raised an eyebrow when she saw Jim's smiled shorten a little.

"No, you're wrong. No one else can do it. Plus, weren't saying you are bored?"

"And here comes Jim Moriarty flying in with a bank robbery like a fairy godmother. Give me credit, Jim. I'm not stupid."

Jim's mind raced, hoping to turn the conversation around. "Even if it is a trap, I'm sure you can beat anything. You know my every move, right?" Jim smiled when Irene curled her lip. Flattery always worked.

"True. I have known your every move since we were little." Irene smiled to herself. She pouted and sighed. "Fine. You've got yourself a robber. What you need it for is none of my business. Just take it and go." Irene placed the papers back inside the file and stood up. "You can take your leave now." Jim looked up at her.

"Really? I don't want to. Can't I stay?" Jim pouted and gave her puppy eyes. Irene smiled but then quickly frowned.

"Not a chance, bucko. Clear out." Irene grabbed Jim's arm and easily lifted him up.

"Watch the suit! It's Calvin Klein!" Jim objected as Irene threw him out.

"Boo hoo, tell someone who cares." Irene rolled her eyes. "Bye bye!" She waved and grinned, slamming the door in Jim's face. She locked the door and jumped back on the couch, falling asleep instantly.

**LATER**

"How dare she close the door in my face!" Jim pouted as Sebastian took his arm and led him to the black car parked on the opposite road.

"Who cares? Doesn't matter, she said yes." Jim's mood immediately changed.

"She did, didn't she?" He clapped his hands and waited for Sebastian to open his door. "Flattery always worked with her. You wouldn't know it, but Irene can be very vain."

"Wouldn't be able to notice it. She seems to down to earth." Sebastian closed the door when Jim hoped in. Jim eyes followed Sebastian.

"Hides it well, doesn't she? Now serious time." Jim placed his hands under his chin and pouted while Sebastian pulled out of park and into drive. "How to tell Mycrofty Holmes about our little robbery?"_  
><em>


	17. Chapter 17: The Case

Irene rose the next morning back at her London Bridge house and arrived at Baker Street on the dot. She let herself in with a key she copied while Sherlock's back was turned and placed her bag and helmet on the usual spot. She smiled as she saw the flat.

John and Sherlock must have just had a case, as the flat was in 'post case' syndrome as she dubbed it. Newspaper littered everywhere and furniture found in interesting places. Food left uneaten and some of the experiments found their way back. Irene didn't mind, at least she had something to do. John was the first to rise, apologising as he said he was working that day at the clinic. Strangely, Irene already knew and had packed him lunch. John smiled in wonder and thanked her, waving as he left. Irene had a few more minutes until Sherlock woke up, looking rather grumpy.

"Where's John?"

"Working." Replied Irene as she hit a cushion to get some of the dust at. Sherlock grumbled.

"He should have told me." He sat at the table and banged a coffee mug. Irene smiled and poured him coffee.

"Black, two sugars?" Sherlock nodded. "Oh, I'm sure he told you. Probably forgot." She shrugged and poured herself some. "How was the case?" Sherlock looked up.

"Didn't say we had a case." He eyed her suspiciously.

Irene smiled. "Condition of your flat did. Call it 'post case' syndrome. Fits." Sherlock lifted the corner of his mouth in his famous half smile and sipped coffee.

"Might be a boring day, I'm afraid. No cases or murders to speak of." Sherlock apologised. Irene shrugged.

"How tedious." Sherlock smiled. "Well, you might just have to help me clean." Sherlock choked on that last word and darted from the kitchen in his room. Irene laughed and washed her mug, picking up the kitchen bin and began throwing old food into it.

**LATER**

"Sherlock, I need your help." Detective Inspector Lestrade had been talking to Sherlock for five minutes, Irene staying invisible folding towels in the back corner.

"How many?" Sherlock asked, staring out the window.

"Two. One belonging to the victim, the other a cat." Irene listened, interested.

Sherlock curled his lip. "Fine, I'll come. Forensics?" He asked.

"Anderson."

"Oh god no." Sherlock instantly replied and frowned. He suddenly looked up. "Irene?" He called out to her. Irene titled her head.

"Hm?"

"Busy?"

"Just folding your laundry, Locky."

"Well, want to help me on a case? And don't call me Locky." Irene dropped the towels and stood up.

"Are you serious? I'm your girl!" Lestrade sighed and shook his head.

"Fine, she can come. It's in Sussex. Follow behind us." He quickly left and Sherlock and hurriedly put on his coat. Irene dusted her clothes and picked up her helmet. Sherlock took it from her.

"We are going in a cab. Too slow."

"Slow?" Irene laughed. "I'd beat you on my bike!"

In the end, Irene was taking a cab. She stood outside in the cold while Sherlock tried to hail one down. Irene had to admit he did look kind of cute; standing with the wind flipped his coat open and his dark hair swirling. Irene quickly looked away and turned red.

"Finally." Sherlock muttered to himself as he flagged one and opened he door for Irene.

"How like a gentleman." She winked and climbed in. Soon after five minutes Irene had the window down and a hand to her mouth.

"Sick, Irene?" Sherlock leaned over and sneered. Irene glared at him.

"Oh shut up." She said and quickly covered her mouth, closing her eyes. Sherlock smiled.

Finally, the cab stopped. "Sussex sir, ma'am." Sherlock paid the driver and took Irene's hand, helping her out. She stood, eyes closed and regarding health.

"I'm fine." She opened them and nodded. "I always get it. One of the better reasons I prefer a bike." Sherlock first spotted the police crime tape outside a small town house. Irene stopped when she saw it. All the windows of the house were covered in a red paint. Irene smelt the air and realised, her stomach sinking. It wasn't paint, it was blood.

"It smells vile."

"I think I am going to vomit." Irene said. Sherlock glanced at her and Irene smiled reassuringly. "I'll be fine. Lets get this over and done with." Sherlock nodded and walked over to the house, lifting the tape for Irene. She bent over and followed Sherlock as a black woman in a blazer and black pants approached him. Irene raised an eyebrow. She gave Sherlock a rather rude greeting.

"Hello freak. Thought this would be right up your alley, hey?"

"Greetings Sally. Scrubbing floors again?" he smiled as Sally turned red. She quickly noticed Irene.

"Who's this?" She suddenly smiled. "Got yourself a girlfriend? That's rich. Is she funny?" Irene raised an eyebrow.

"Irene Adler. Pleased to met you. On the pill, are you?" Irene shook the shocked Sally's hand. Sherlock tried not to laugh. "Hope it's yours. Awkward if it isn't, probably not though..." Irene trailed off and walked around the groups of police, analysing the house from all angles.

"You've just made an enemy." Sherlock whispered to Irene.

"She can join the club." She waved a hand while Sherlock smiled. "Is this the blood that man was talking about?" Irene pointed. "The cats'?" Sherlock nodded. Irene frowned. "How despicable." She curled her lip and noticed Sherlock walking into the house.

"Put this on." The detective from Sherlock's flat said. Irene laughed.

"Don't think so."

"Put it on or you can't come in." Irene raised an eyebrow and gestured in Sherlock's direction. The detective had handed to her one of those blue jumpsuits that everyone else was wearing. Irene wasn't even inside the house yet. Sherlock already walked into the lounge room. The house had a narrow hallway with the living on one side, the dining on the other. At the end of the hallway was kitchen and bathroom. Fluorescent lights were assembled and people ran in and out. "He's a special case." He argued.

"And so am I." Irene argued back. "Either I come in, or neither of us." Lestrade sighed and passed her through, mumbling something. Irene took a pair of rubber gloves and walked into the lounge room, sighing.

On one of the many couches was a semi naked man's corpse, covered in scratch marks and cuts. Fur lied around his body and bits of cat littered the floor. She held up her head and walked around, meeting Sherlock at the dead body. He took out a little magnifying glass and examined the body. Irene smiled. _Wasting his time. The body is clear. The house however, is not._ Irene set to analyzing the room, while Sherlock checked out the body. Irene walked back to the door and peered at the knob. She rubbed it and smelt her finger. She frowned in disgust. Irene walked back inside the room and approached the wall, staring at it. After a while, she noticed she was being watched.

"Terrible, isn't it?" She turned around and was greeted by man with dark brown hair and a sunken face and pouty lips, but his expression seemed slightly happy. Irene swallowed and tried not to vomit.

"The man?" " Irene nodded behind him. "I suppose."

"Not many people can tolerate it. Anderson." He held out his gloved hand, but Irene raised an eyebrow at it.

"Charmed. And no, it doesn't affect me. I have seen worse." Anderson laughed.

"Doubt it. I have seen more horrible things. Things even _Sherlock _couldn't stomach." Irene smiled.

"Congratulations." Irene turned around and scratched at something on the walls. She examined her fingers and smiled. She then stopped when Anderson talked again.

"Nothing interesting on those walls. The body's more interesting. I should know." Irene smiled, sighing and turned around.

"I beg to differ, Anderson. You see a special type of fungus, deadly to inhale, coats these walls. Whatever the murderer has done to that body is useless evidence. You should start looking at the walls and vents." Irene nodded and walked past Anderson, but not before adding, "By the way, you and me? Not going to happen." Irene smiled innocently and found Sherlock staring at her. She nodded and walked over to him. "Anything on the body?"

"Dead by bleeding." Sherlock said, not really looking at her. "The cat's scratches didn't do a lot, the cuts made probably by knives did deeper damage. He is an alcoholic; computer addicted and works at an ink factory. Aged between 35 and 45 and doesn't actually live here. He is left handed, everything in the house is set up for a right handed person." Irene cut him off.

"Don't listen to the body, Sherlock. It doesn't tell you everything." Sherlock looked at her and stared.

"I beg to differ. What did you find?" Irene smiled.

"Death not by bleeding. He was dead before that. There is a special type of fungus, odourless and colorless practically painted on these walls. Breathe it in and boom!" Irene shouted and flicked her fingers in Sherlock's surprised face. "Dead man!" Irene shouted, granting her looks from everyone in the room. "Don't always trust the body Sherlock." Irene shoved her hands in her pockets and whistled while walked around the room. Suddenly, she clapped and thought of something. "Nearest bathroom! Where is the nearest bathroom?" She shouted and asked people.

"Down the hallway, across the kitchen." Lestrade said. Irene thanked him and raced out the room, Sherlock on her trails. She quickly looked around and found the bathroom.

"Clear!" She shouted and kicked off the lid of the back part of the toilet.

"What are you doing!" Sherlock hissed as he ran in after her. Irene smiled and pulled out a small package from the back compartment.

"Solving you a case..." Irene stopped smiling when she heard a faint ticking sound. Her eyes grew wide and she pushed Sherlock aside and sprinted form the bathroom, knocking anyone who got in her way. "MOVE IT!" She shouted and yelled. "OUT OF THE WAY!" She eventually raced out of the house and stood in the middle of the street. She carefully placed the package on the ground and sprinted back to the house, ordering anyone close to it to back away. "Get away from the package, inside the house!" Irene stood on the house's front door steps. For a split second, nothing happened and everybody laughed, including Sherlock. Irene however smiled and covered her ears. "Three, two, one."

_BOOM!_

The package exploded, creating a hole in the road. Bits of gravel and cement flew into the air, smashing windows and breaking cars. Irene dusted herself off calmly and walked towards to package, which was still more or less a whole, picking it up and throwing it at Lestrade. "Here we go, got a case for you." Irene looked at the faces of the fellow officers and forensic scientists and laughed. "Look at you, stunned mullets. Come on, only an explosion. Bigger fish to fry." Irene strutted over to Sherlock and patted his shoulder. "Come on sweets, got a case to solve."

"I hardly know where to begin." Sherlock admitted quietly. Irene heard a laugh. It was Anderson.

"Ha, the famous Sherlock, up staged by a girl." He sneered with others laughed. Irene however smiled.

"A girl, huh?" She walked up to Anderson, frowned in disgust. "Oh, I would hit you but disinfectant can only do so much." She walked past Sally again and stopped. Irene looked from Sally to Anderson and back again, realizing. "Oh, ew!" Irene gagged and shook her head. Lifting up the crime tape, Irene waited for Sherlock to walk underneath.

"Baker Street?" He asked. Irene shook her head.

"Not yet. Need to get to a lab."

"St Bart's it is then." Sherlock signalled a cab and remained silent until he couldn't anymore. "Okay, questions."

"Fine, answers." Irene replied and closing her eyes and breathing slowly. Sickness threatened her again.

"How did you know about the bomb?"

Irene opened her eyes and stared out the window. "Instinct?"

"Nice try."

She sighed. "Fine. I noticed that the doorhandle, which had being closed before the police came, had traces of the fungus and other yuckies on it. Basically, it smelt of the bathroom. I thought about it, the murderer obviously had planned to blow the place up, but water got into the bomb and slowed the process. I brought a little indicator with me. The rest, you know. " irene pulled it out of her pocket and showed Sherlock.

"Not really. The fungus on the walls?"

"Going to analyse that now." Irene reached into her pockets and pulled out a little tin box. Inside was a length of tape. "Took some fungus back at the house. Thought it would come in handy." She gave it to Sherlock who peered at it.

"Seems very confusing to me. Why not just blow it up before killing the man?"

"Our killer is not an arsonist, but a psychopath. He watched the man die, slowly from the fungus then decided to blow the place up, evidential reasons."

"The cat scratches and blood?"

"The man's an artist." Irene shrugged and hoped out when the cab stopped. "He clearly felt creative enough to fuel his fantasy and basically got carried away." Irene slightly raised her voice as the wind picked up. She shivered.

"Creepy, isn't it?" Sherlock said, walking into the lobby and waving a card at security, bringing Irene with him.

"Yeah." Irene agreed, slightly distracted. They walked into Sherlock's lab and he set up a microscope. Irene scrapped off a bit of fungus and placed it carefully on a slide, handing it to Sherlock. She then sat on a stool, swinging in circles. "Anything yet?"

"Not fungus, bacteria." Irene frowned.

"Damn, so close. Can't win it all."

"Oh, Sherlock! Didn't hear you come in..." said a voice that made Irene's skin shiver. Molly skipped in, freezing when she saw Irene.

Irene smiled and waved. "Molly! Long time no see."

"What are you doing here?"

"Helping Sherlock on a case."

"You..." Molly choked, "Are working together?"

Sherlock shrugged, immersed in the microscope. "Yeah, you could call it that."

"Basically just filling in for John." Irene swung on her stool. "He should be away more often! This is so much fun, isn't it Locky?" Sherlock rolled his eyes while Irene sparkled her eyes at him. Molly bit her bottom lip.

"Oh, look who came to visit today..." Molly quickly walked out and arrived back with a man on her arm. Irene was playing with a test tube and nearly dropped it when she saw him.

Jim. Clinging onto Molly arm like a python, and twice as deadly, staring at her like an idiot. Irene didn't know whether to be afraid, or laugh her sides off. "Sherlock, you've met Jim. From IT." Sherlock didn't so much as glance. 'Jim from IT' never took his eyes of Irene, who stared back.

"I know I never have. So, Jim is it?" Irene smiled. Jim smiled back. "You and Molly, cute couple. Office romance, I take it?"

Jim giggled and smiled at Molly. "I know, right? Never would have believed it."

"You're right there." Irene mumbled and suddenly coughed when Molly heard her. "Something in my throat. Probably allergic to all the gay in the air." Irene mumbled in the last bit and started brushing the air, as if to clear something in it. "Anyway, must get back to it."

"Oh that's right, Molly tells me about what Sherlock does but I don't know about you."

"Isn't that sweet of Molly?" Irene smiled so hard she thought her cheeks were about to crack. "Well, I am Sherlock's housekeeper, isn't that right?" I looked over at Sherlock who picked up his head and nodded.

"Yeah, pretty good at it."

"All day everyday. From dawn to dusk." Irene smiled at both Jim and Molly, creating red cheeks in both of them.

"Housekeeper?" Molly said, voice breaking.

"Yeah, sounds interesting." Jim backed her up, giving Irene meaningful looks. Irene ignored them.

"Can't imagine the stuff I find. Never boring. Anyway, must hurry along. Bye bye now." Irene winked at Jim and turned her back. Molly dragged Jim away and talked to him about something as they left.

"Jim's weird."

"Not to mention, gay." Irene laughed, noticing that she sounded uneasy. She must remind herself never to come here alone. Again. "Anything else, genius?"

"Bacteria is home grown, and now that you mention it, they were some mysterious green, crusty like stuff around the man's mouth and nose."

"Putting all my money on bacteria." Irene concluded. She pulled a small piece of the bomb from her pocket and gave it to Sherlock. "Little present, tell me what you get." Sherlock looked excited and immediately pulled out equipment and began tests. After two hours, Irene had fallen asleep in an armchair in the corner.

"Aha! Little bastard got you!" Sherlock announced and woke Irene up.

"Found it?" she rubbed her eyes.

"Yep. Need to find the man's real house. The house he was found in was his gardener's." Irene stretched.

"Gardener's?" She stopped and scratched her head. "How odd."

"Hey, you said the man was an artist." Sherlock shrugged and put on his coat, waiting for Irene to out her jacket back on and left the lab. Soon they made it out of St Bart's and caught another taxi to the police station. Irene stayed in the car.

"Probably not the best idea I go inside." Sherlock turned around. "The police men are surprisingly good with faces and, well I don't have the cleanest of records." Irene smiled apologetically. Sherlock smiled and pulled her out.

"Join the club." He noticed a stand nearby and purchased a pair of sunglasses and scarf. Irene slipped them on and asked his opinion.

"Well?"

"Ridiculous."

"Perfect, then." Irene smiled and walked inside with Sherlock. They went pasted all the offices until they arrived to a room filled with computers.

"Hey, Mac." Sherlock said to a skinny man in a chair. The man smiled and turned around, his back to the computers.

"Sherlock! And pretty friend." He noticed Irene and winked. Irene smiled and winked back.

"You're not so bad on the eyes yourself." Irene teased. Mac laughed.

"Yeah right. Anyway, what can I do for you?"

"Need to know a bit about someone. Nick Longsure?" Sherlock leant over the desk and watched as Mac typed in the name.

"So, what's all this then, bright eyes?" Irene asked Mac and circled the computers. He smiled, not taking his face away from the screen.

"The database, little lady. Want to know about anyone? Ask me and you'll get bank details, house address, work contacts anything!"

"Neat." Irene smiled.

"Here we go, Nick Longsure. Lives close, no wives, kids, works at Squid Ink and Co., doesn't seem to be the adventurous type, no insurance to speak of. Pretty a low radar guy."

"Anything else?" Sherlock said, eyes racing across the screen. Mac scratched his chin.

"Might be easier if I printed it off for you."

"Mac, does it say anything about the people who might have worked for him?" Irene said, breaking the conversation. Sherlock smiled.

"Thanks, Irene Almost forgot. Anything about a gardener working for him?" Mac frowned and went back to his screens.

"Um, no ... wait here he is." Mac pointed to a name. "Oscar Picket. Been working for about three years. Print out?" Mac asked Sherlock who nodded. Irene walked around the room and looked at a collage of photos. Mac was in most of then with a woman and two kids. She smiled and touched the glass.

"Irene?"" Sherlock pulled her from her train of thought.

"Hm?"

"We are leaving now. Thanks Mac."

"Anything else, just buzz." Mac saluted Sherlock and pointed his fingers at Irene, clicking his tongue. Irene smiled and blew a kiss. They left and walked pasted the desks. Irene noticed Sherlock swipe something from a desk.

"What did you just take?" She asked when they walked outside. Sherlock held up a pair of cuffs.

"You destroyed my last pair. Needs new ones." Irene smiled and shrugged apologetically.

"What can I say? Never try and lock up Irene Adler." She winked and walked down the street.

Sherlock followed her. "What are you doing?" Irene held up the sheets of paper that were just printed out.

"Not the only one that is good at swiping stuff. Pinched it from your pockets." Irene laughed as Sherlock dug his hands into his coat pockets and frowned.

"Very good." He pouted.

"Anyway, he only lives around the corner. See what he is up too."

"He's dead." Sherlock reminded her.

"Oh yeah." Irene frowned, wrapping her floral scarf tighter around her neck as they turned into the next street.


	18. Chapter 18: The Brother

"God, you are pathetic." Irene sighed and took out her trusty lock picker. "Here." She unlocked the door in five seconds flat, but another lock was above it, the chain type.

"Well, Houdini?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. Irene frowned.

"Shut up. This is actually a good sign. People don't usually lock the chain unless one: They are still inside the house, two: they left via the back door and three: protection. My best bet was he was inside, threatened or something and was taken not by the front door."

"You are turning into a me." Sherlock smiled as Irene climbed over the side gate and unlocked it.

"Honey, I was a you before you were even you." Irene slightly frowned, realising how silly it sounded. "Oh, you get my drift. Now hurry up before the police get here and mess it up." Sherlock smiled and followed her. The house was narrow and high, two storeys. The side pathway was also narrow, leading to a rather largish garden. Pots plants and vegetables decorated it, will a tiny patio at the back of the house.

"I was wondering why he needed a gardener." Sherlock frowned. "Longsure wasn't incapable of tending this garden by himself. There is really no need for a gardener."

"Maybe it was more than a gardener?" Irene said and tapped the back door's sliding glass. "Sherlock." She called him over and pointed. "Someone tampered this." The lock looked very scratched and twisted. "With the lock in that condition my lock pick won't work." Sherlock eyed the second floor.

"Irene, boost me up." Sherlock caught Irene's serious face.

"Are you serious? Me lift you? I'm strong, but I ain't no sumo wrestler." Irene lifted a foot and Sherlock reluctantly agreed to boost her up. He had to admit; she was very light, her skinny frame not hiding anything. Irene climbed onto the second floor window and tested the glass. It slid up easily. "Unlocked!"

"That's strange!" Sherlock shouted back up. "Maybe he forgot to lock the window!"

"No, that's not it." Irene mumbled as she climbed into the house. "He's still here." Irene carefully walked around bedroom, king-sized bed and quietly walked into the hallway. Nothing. She pricked up her ears and heard a _very_ small crinkle. The bathroom. "I'm going to look downstairs." Irene called out, very slowly creeping towards the bathroom. She grabbed the door handle and leapt into the bathroom. Nothing. She smiled and turned around, receiving a sharp punch to the cheek. "Bastard!" Irene stumbled back. "I could believe you'd hit a girl!" Irene covered her face and pretended to sob hysterically. The man behind the door froze, not sure as to what to do. Irene stopped suddenly and gave him a right good kick in the crotch. The man screamed and fell on his knees. Irene swung her arm and punched him right in the face and he bowled over. She dusted herself off, checked her reflection and pulled off a cord from around a bathrobe. She grabbed the man's hands and tied them behind his back. She found another one and tied it to the towel rack. Irene looked at her handiwork and smiled, interrupted when she heard Sherlock shout from downstairs.

"Irene! Open the door!" He shouted banging on it.

"Coming, coming." Irene replied as she walked down the stairs and waved at a really impatient Sherlock and unlocked the door, pushing it open. "Join us." Irene said, bowing.

"Us?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Made a friend. He's upstairs."

"Is that why you have that bruise?" Sherlock smiled while Irene frowned.

"Yes." She admitted and touched her face.

Sherlock walked up the stairs. "Too much for you?"

"Oh zip it." She ordered him and stayed downstairs, analysing the room. She walked into the kitchen and found old food, bits of rubbish and paper. _He was killed recently; this stuff has only been here a short while as no dust or decay has really settled on it. _Irene popped into the other rooms, laundry, downstairs bathroom and lounge room. All clear, nothing unusual. Irene heard a _thump_. Sherlock must have found the man. She raced up stairs and saw Sherlock pinning down the man.

"Tried...to run...away." Sherlock said strained. Irene calmly walked up and sat on Sherlock, crushing the man underneath.

"Get...off"! He begged, turning red. Irene crossed her legs.

"Not before you tell us why you killed Nick Longsure." The man struggled.

"What? I...never killed him...! I'm Will...Longsure... his brother!" Irene immediately stood up and Sherlock did as well.

"Did you have to sit on me as well?" Sherlock mumbled, holding onto Will's shoulder.

Irene stared at him. "You do have the same jawline, eyes and ears." She titled her head. "Why are you here?" Will rubbed his shoulder.

"I heard something happened, so I came over to see if anything was wrong."

"Your relationship with your brother is complicated, isn't it?" Sherlock looked around the room. "Which is why you didn't have a key."

"Yeah, I had to break in." Will admitted.

"Will, do you know your brother well?" Irene asked.

"What do you mean?" He scratched his head.

Irene sighed. "Have you met his gardener?" Will blinked. Irene noticed that his pupils dilated.

"Picket? Yeah, once I think. Dodgy sort of guy. He seemed weird." Will trailed off. Irene wasn't satisfied.

"Anything else?"

"Oh, I noticed that when he came over, he tended to go to the laundry a lot. And I am hardly here." Will remembered. "I recalled it very strange, as he was his gardener." Irene smiled.

"Thanks." Irene untied him and the three of them exited the house. Irene unlocked the back door and climbed out of the window, jumping off the frame and landing squarely on her feet.

"Baker Street?" She asked and Sherlock nodded.

"Alright, thanks for not calling the cops." Will said, shaking Sherlock's hand.

"I think a kick to the balls is punishment enough." Irene smiled. Will laughed embarrassingly and walked out of the side gate, Sherlock and Irene following behind.


	19. Chapter 19: The Suspicion

"Recap time Irene." Sherlock said from his crouched position in his chair. Irene swung John's cane around and poked the floor with it.

"Okay, man dead in his gardener's house, not from blood loss but bacterial infection. His blood was used _after_ he had died, plus an unlucky cat's, to make it appear so. The walls were covered in the bacteria, making me think that the gardener hadn't been living there otherwise he would have died as well. Now the murder also planned to blow the place up, evidence reasons, and it was slowed down by the toilet water." Sherlock hummed to himself. "Anything I missed yet?"

"Yes, very important too. The bacteria didn't kill the police or us." Irene frowned but smiled.

"Powder, don't know what type though. I remember it being on the windowsills and doorframes and bathroom floor. It must have kept it away. When we walked in covered in the stuff, it killed it. Must be a sensitive type."

"But no traces in my sample?" Irene scratched her head.

"I got that from the walls, where the powder wouldn't have been there." Irene stopped. "You don't think _laundry _powder?"

"Irene", Sherlock warned, "Slow down. We haven't confirmed the type of powder or the truth of Will's words. Be careful about twisting facts to suit theories.

"Yeah yeah, just a thought." Irene swung the cane. "So, the victim's house, pretty much clean, hasn't been there for a little while but no dust has settled on any of the rubbish or evidence of decay. Back door lock hammered with but now known to be caused by brother Will. He seemed concerned but their relationship senses rocky. Now, why was the top window left open?" Irene wondered but Sherlock interrupted him.

"Doesn't matter. Where is this Oscar Picket now?" Sherlock stood up, walked over the coffee table and opened a drawer. He pulled out a small packet of something. Irene stared interested. "Nicotine patches." Sherlock ripped off three and stuck them to his forearm. When offered, Irene refused.

"Prefer not to cheat, thank you." Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Cheating? How is it cheating?"

"It shows I'm the better person, the criminal cheats by breaking the law."

"That makes no sense."

"I don't want a nicotine patch, okay?" Irene shouted and surprised Sherlock. She frowned and mumbled a sorry. "Sorry."

"Not, its fine." Sherlock awkwardly looked away. "So", he coughed and scratched his head. "Anything else to add?"

"Not sure." Irene smiled and rubbed her eyes. "Hungry?"

"Don't eat on a case." Sherlock replied, making Irene scowl.

"You know, _not_ eating actually slows you down."

"Digesting slows me down."

"Bullocks." Irene argued but dropped the matter. "Fine, starve, wither away. I'm ordering some Chinese. Think about the case while I'm out."

"I wouldn't be here sketching ponies, Irene." Sherlock pointed out, making Irene smile as she left the flat. Irene stepped out and looked down both ends of the street. Heading south, she searched for the Chinese restaurant. After five minutes she found it, and sat down on a single table. Ordering a prawn stir-fry, Irene pulled out a folder from her bag and went over the contents again. It was Jim's bank folder.

Irene had already sketched out her plan, but she needed to go over finer details. "Can't bring my arrows, dammit." She mumbled and scratched her head. "But I can bring a gun. Have to be small and concealable..." Irene stopped when the waitress brought her food over. She thanked her and started, using the chopsticks with ease. "It's good..." She mumbled and smiled. The prawns were just right, the spice not too heavy. When she finished, she planned her movements in and out of the vault. "The camera resets every five second, so I will have to hack into the computer system, record a empty vault and play it while I am in there." Irene sighed and went over her notes. "Seems simple enough." She smiled and packed up, deciding not to leave Sherlock on his own for too long. He could become suspicious, or burn the house down. Whichever was worse.

Irene entered the flat finding Sherlock in the same chair, but different position. He was upside down. "Too much hot air in your brain?" Irene leaned over and titled her head, matching the position Sherlock was in now.

"Trying a new tactic. Wasn't thinking clearly."

"Well, now that the hot air is gone, it will be replaced by blood." Irene rolled her eyes and lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "Anyway, thought of anything?"

Sherlock sighed. "Not yet. We need more evidence. Can't look at the gardener's house – been there. His own house proved pointless-"

"The ink factory?" Irene looked at Sherlock. He frowned.

"Yes. Enough though he worked there, he was pretty clean of ink. However, the spots of ink on him were new, and not tried to be scrubbed with soap or something."

"He wasn't taken from his house, or was he? No real signs of a struggle. So, he was at the factory and the murderer... took him to the gardener's house and watched him choke on the bacteria?" Irene didn't sound convinced. "Seems pretty hard work."

"We need to go to the factory at once. Check out security footage and shift times. Find out when he was there and when he should!" Sherlock leapt off the chair and threw on the coat. Irene had barely anytime to react before Sherlock was out the door.

"Crap." She threw her jacket back on and raced down the stairs and onto the street. 'Sherlock?" She called out. Irene swore under her breath. He obviously caught a taxi and left her here. "When I find that son of gun I will wring his neck!" _Buzz! _"What the..." Irene rummaged through her pockets and pulled out her cell.

_Going to the factory, meet me at Scotland's yard when you dig up dirt from the brother's house. He was lying._

- _SH_

Irene rolled her eyes. "Me? Snooping around his _brother's _place? How boring!" She swore and went back inside the flat and retrieved her helmet. She stopped. "Address? He didn't even give me an address." _Beep! _Irene checked her phone

_19 Props Rd, Brixton._

_ -SH_

Irene stared at the message. "Stupid mind reader." She mumbled and hopped on her bike, speeding off for 19 Props Road, Brixton.

...

Sherlock stared at the screens behind Mac. "Irene Adler." He ordered, watching Mac's skinny fingers dance across the keys.

"That's strange..." Mac murmured.

"What?" Sherlock leaned in, hungry for information.

"She's... not here. She's not a citizen."

Sherlock sighed. "She has to be!" He scratched his head. "Try America's. Her mother was from New Jersey." Again, nothing came up.

"Hang on..." Mac had found something, not in New Jersey, but in Ireland. "Here." He pointed. On the screen was a photo a blonde haired girl with the name 'Irene Adler'. Sherlock's eyes widened. The girl was dead and looked nothing like the Irene he knew.

"It can't be. She looks nothing like her... and she is dead."

"Well, she might have gotten surgery and faked her death." Mac offered. Sherlock nodded.

"One thing is for certain: Irene Adler is lying."


	20. Chapter 20: The Brother's Secret

Also titled: **Irene's Secret.**

Irene had spent two hours at Will's house. The first was spent talking; the other was breaking back in once Will left after he thought she did.

His house was very clean, too clean. Will's job was very high demanding so it was cleaned very recently for the first time in a while. He seemed very uptight, uneasy as Irene asked questions. He had a very hard view of Oscar. Appeared to despise the man. Irene was snooping through his laundry when she accidentally knocked the washing machine and moved it a couple of inches. But it was all it needed. Leaning down, she noticed that underneath the machine, unreachable by the mop and broom, was a thin line of powder. Irene swabbed a sample. She betted her bike it matched the powder from the room. She also looked upstairs. Irene swiped the rooms and entered the bedroom, opening drawers and noticing a second pair of things. She knew this by the size.

"So, a frequent visitor?" Irene responded, writing her notes in a little book. She looked harder at the clothes. "My god... a _male_ visitor?" She peeped in the bathroom and looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except one thing. A shampoo. It looked no different, except it was identical to the one in the gardener's bathroom. It was one for dandruff. Irene smiled.

"How cheeky! Snooping around with the gardener, were we? Let me guess, little brother found out and threatened you with it?" Irene walked out in the bedroom and circled around, thinking and talking.

"Oh, you didn't like that, did you? Could have lost your job, reputation, everything. But why go to such lengths when hitting him on the head with a shovel would do just as well?" Irene stopped.

"Maybe the brother didn't come into it. Might as well, the _gardener_ might know a bit more about bacteria. Or did he? Either way, must tell Sherlock." Irene left the house the same way she came in, through the kitchen window. She walked out and revved her bike, heading for Scotland's Yard.

Irene parked her bike, put on her sunglasses and scarf and walked through the checkpoints. She caught the lift and found Sherlock inside Lestrade's office. "Boys. Sherlock, found some juicy clues."

"Irene." Sherlock stood rather stiffly. "Or should I even call you that?" Irene stopped dead in her tracks.

"What are you talking about? My name is Irene Elizabeth Adler, my mother's is Jane Wreath and my father's is Jack Adler. My birthplace is Dublin and I was born in 1982, now what is going on?" Irene raced through a list of her details and sat down.

"Who is she, then?" Sherlock turned the screen around and Irene's eyes widened slightly. There was a photograph of a blonde woman, with the exact details that she had just recited. Irene mentally smacked herself. _She fell right into the trap!_ "And why is she dead?" Irene's mind raced.

"That is my sister." Irene's eyes started watering. "She died of heart failure. My name is Irene because I took it as a memorial tribute. Elizabeth is my birth name, and Irene is my middle. Elizabeth was Irene's middle name. "

"I don't believe you." Sherlock started down his nose at Irene's who sniffed. Lestrade rolled his eyes.

"Sherlock, be considerate. I'm sorry Irene, you have to see it caused a bit off confusion." Irene smiled through her tears.

"It's quite alright. I got that back home at first." She suddenly stood up. "Now the reason I'm here: Will Longsure and Oscar Picket were lovers." Sherlock tightened his face.

"You sure?" Irene nodded.

"Pretty sure. There was a drawer filled of clothes that were too small for Will and a shampoo in his bathroom matching the one in Oscar's. Not a coincidence, Will didn't have dandruff. His scalp is perfect. Plus, when Will spoke about him, it was filled with disgust."

"If he hated him, why were they lovers then?" Lestrade asked.

"Usually, people who try to hide the fact that they are in a relationship, tend to over exaggerate the feelings they use to hide their real ones with." Sherlock replied in a matter-of-factly tone. Irene smiled.

"Exactly. Now, Sherlock, your evidence?" She asked. Sherlock quickly avoided Lestrade's stare.

"Didn't find any. Back to the flat." Sherlock swiftly left the office with Irene hot on his trail. They left the building with Sherlock not saying a word until they reached the flat.

As soon as they arrived, Sherlock threw off his coat and pinned Irene against a wall. "What the-!"

"You lied!" Sherlock shouted, crushing her against the wall. Irene tried t squirmed but he was too strong.

"Sherlock, stop!"

"You lied about you _sister_, didn't you? Didn't you!" Sherlock persisted. "Who is she then? Who!" Sherlock shouted and pressed harder.

"Sherlock!" John ran from the door and ripped Sherlock from Irene. She coughed and rubbed her chest. John threw Sherlock away from him. "What has gotten into you? Leave Irene alone!"

"It's okay John-"

"It's not, Irene. Sherlock, how dare you!" John pointed at him.

"Its not that, its-"

"I don't care! I never want to see it again!" John shouted and placed the shopping on the table. Irene quickly checked the clock. It was already two thirty. "Now, that aside, sorry for working, I need to pay my share somehow." John sighed and sat down on a couch. Irene walked into the kitchen and clicked on he jug. "Thanks. What did you guys do today?"

"Nothing." Sherlock moped from the couch. He had shoved a jumper on and threw a sulk on it. He folded his arms and faced away from everyone.

"Lestrade came with a case." Irene said from the kitchen. John pricked his head up.

"Really? You should have called me!" Irene waved her hand.

"No, you had to work, and besides, I tagged along. Didn't I Sherlock?" Irene called to him. He mumbled something and shifted on the lounge. "He said I was a great help." John smiled.

"Well, whatever to pass the time. Think you could go over it for me? Maybe I could add something." Irene grinned and went through it. John's eyes were wide.

"Okay, I have no clue to what is going on. This doesn't even make sense."

"Cases never do." Sherlock mumbled from the couch. Irene shrugged.

"This is why we haven't cracked it yet."

"'Me'." Sherlock corrected and stood up and walked over the coffee table. "What is this 'we'? I solve the case, you just tag along."

"It's true." John shrugged. Irene turned to him. "You basically replace the skull." She smiled.

"Oh really? Where would you be with my help? No here, that's for sure."

"I would get here, just a little later." Irene blew.

"My god you are so full of it!" She shouted, waving her hand. "John, how do you deal with this stuck up bag of crap?" John shrunk while Sherlock curled his lip in amusement. "Oh, you find this funny? How about you suck up your damn pride and admit once in a while you are not all that brilliant?" Sherlock smiled.

"But I am."

_WACK! _Irene retrieved her hand from where she struck Sherlock against the cheek. She turned around and picked up her stuff, nodding to John and left the apartment. John shook his head.

"Smooth, Sherlock. Real smooth." He stood up and walked to his room. Sherlock stayed were he stood, hand to his red cheek. It hurt like a bitch. No tears, but Sherlock was dumbstruck. No one, not even Mycroft, had ever struck him like that (criminals didn't count). He was slightly in awe, amazed at Irene's nerve. He blushed, his cheeks growing even redder.


	21. Chapter 21: The Robbery

Irene growled as she sat inside the bank. _Stupid Sherlock. Thinks he knows everything. Ha! Compared to her, he knows nothing!_ Irene smiled to herself and jumped slightly when the lady called her. She stood up, brushed herself and walked over to the counter. "Hello, my name is Jackie Sande and I wish to open an account."

_Wrrrinng! Weee oooo weeeooo! Wrrrinng! Weee oooo weeeooo!_

Everyone in the bank freaked out. The siren went off in ear piercing screeches. Irene dodged in and out of the panic and slipped into a back room. She took her little device out of her pocket and fiddled with it. She had set off the alarm and now pinpointing the cause of the alarm in the south-western side of the bank, where she would be robbing the north-eastern side. Irene smiled. _Easy as pie_. She slipped on a black jumpsuit and climbed a stack of boxes, opening the vent door. She slipped in easily and popped the door back on. She closed her eyes for a second, visualising the layout of the vent system. She needed to get to the security room. She opened them and headed straight ahead. A couple of lefts and right and she looked down through a trap door.

Irene opened it carefully and straight to her left was a camera. It wasn't pointed to her and Irene easily fiddled with the wires, freezing it. No one was in the room. The camera in the vault weren't near the vents so she couldn't freeze them without being seen. Plus, they reset every five seconds. She dropped down and raced to a dashboard filled with keyboards. The wall was covered with screens. She tapped on the keyboard until the vault was on the monitors. She hacked into the server, typed in a code that she received from a source and entered it. On the screen popped up settings. A play/pause, fast forward, rewind and record buttons appeared. Irene smiled. She hit the record button, played it for five seconds and then typed in another code for it to replay on a loop. She retraced her steps, leaving no indication and shot back up the vent. Before she left, she unwired the camera and unfroze it.

_The man sat outside the vault, swinging his umbrella and clicking open his pocket watch. Five minutes to go. He crossed his legs on the chair, waiting._

Irene snaked around the vents until she hit the vault. It didn't have a little window like the other rooms, but a bolted down door. Irene reached into her deep pocket and pulled out a little parcel. Inside were four little buttons. Jim gave them to her in case she needed to open something without taking down a building. She placed the little controlled bombs on the four corners and covered her eyes and ears.

_Boom!_

The muffled boom was heard and Irene smiled, easily lifting the door. A wooden board was underneath. Irene pulled out her laser and traced a square, pushing it when it was carved out. She popped her head in, scanning the vault. She smiled and jumped down, landing squarely on her feet. The vault's walls were covered in little drawers, with the wall on Irene's right containing a giant drawer. She walked up to it, noticing it was thumbprint locked. She rolled her eyes and breathed on the lock, the print turning up, unlocking the door. She smiled. Idiots, they should clean it more often. She opened the drawer and found several bags of money and precious gems. Also sitting in a corner was about twelve bars of gold. Irene's eyes sparkled. Suddenly she heard a noise and looked up at her entrance. The roof was covered in laser sensors. She groaned. When she passed through the roof it must have activated something, "Great, the main door it is." She knew she was going to get caught now. "Stupid security." She mumbled and pulled out the list from Jim.

_"Two bars of gold, a sack of gems and the little box in the corner. 3"_

-_JM_

Irene opened the slim backpack and took two bars of gold and one of the sacks but struggled to find the box Jim wanted. She used a chair that was in a corner and reached inside the drawer, smiling when she laid fingers on in. Pulling it out, Irene noticed it was fairly small, about the size of her hand. Shrugging and not really wanting to know, she popped it in her pack and closed the drawers, breathing the print again so it locked. She looked around the room and put the chair put to its original place. Irene scratched her head as she analyzed the door.

"Oh, crap." Irene sighed and tapped the door. It could only be opened on the outside, as no lock or keypad could be found. "Hang on." Irene noticed a small sheet of steel that was different from the surrounding steel. It had been cut out and replaced. She fingered the bolts that held it in placed. She smiled and pulled out an army knife, switching it to screwdriver and set to work. Irene had free the little square and ripped it away. Behind it was the inside of the door, filled with wires and pipes. She sighed, her patience wearing thin. The alarm went off ages ago, soon she would be caught. Pulling out the little device, Irene set off the alarm again, this time setting the source in the basement.

"That should give me about ten minutes." She agreed. Looking inside the door, Irene began touching the wire, tracing their origins to find the ones that were connected to the lock. She found the right ones and switched her knife to scissor mode. She cut a purple wire, followed by a grey one. The alarm was cut off. Now she needed it to unlock. Irene found the wires, all nine of them and noticed which ones connected to the nine buttons on the keypad. Irene quickly figured out, by wear 'n' tear and heat, which ones were used to most. She pulled on them, reacting as if someone was pressing them from the outside. Soon, a click was heard and the door slowly creaked. Irene quickly pulled her arm out and bolted on the screws. She pulled open the door and popped her head out, checking the hallway. No one. She slowly walked out, pulling the vault shut and turning a right. She had gone no more than five steps when she heard a voice.

"And where do you think you are going?"

Irene immediately stopped. She didn't dare turn around. The voice was male, calm and didn't sound like a security guard. It was too patient. Irene smiled. "Just going for a walk. Got lost on the way to the bathroom."

"Don't even try that." The voice responded. "Don't lie, I know what you just did."

"Then why did you ask me?" Irene grinned to herself. She knew she was insane for being cheeky.

"Just making conversation." The voice said, then making a tiny blowing sound, like he was brushing something off.

"Wrong time for that, don't you think?" Irene laughed and titled her head. The voice laughed as well.

"Tell you what. How about we finish this conversation later? Maybe in front of a judge and jury?" Irene breathed in and turned around, facing the stranger.

It was a properly dressed man with a black umbrella. He stood a few steps away from the end on the hallway and smiled. He looked like someone, but Irene couldn't put her finger on it. He looked around in his 40s and had a faint sense of menace about him. Irene didn't back down. "We both know that isn't going to happen."

He threw back his head and laughed, its echo bouncing off the walls. "Oh, true. We can try though." Irene's eyes sparkled.

"Sir, you are one sadly misinformed man."

"And you Miss, are one sadly misinformed woman." He retorted. "How did you get in?" Irene shrugged.

"You don't make it very hard."

"Ah, so for a thrill is it?" The man smiled. Irene frowned slightly. "How interesting."

"Many things are interesting. Like the fact that I am going to leave this bank free." Irene's fierce eyes bore into the man's. His gaze matched hers.

"My dear, why would you think that?"

"This." Irene held up her small device used to trigger alarms. "Boom." It was all she needed to say. The man frowned.

"Fine. You play the game well. However, do not think for a second that I won't be watching you."

"Even in the bathroom?" Irene titled her head. The man instantly shot back.

"_Especially_ in the bathroom." It took him a second to realize what he said. His cheeks went slightly pink. Irene smiled.

"How naughty. Such a shame we are enemies. Au revoir!" Irene blew a kiss and turned around, walking down the hallway. While she did, she swung around the little device, her threat still clearly present.


	22. Chapter 22: The Acorn

Jim frowned. He looked through the security footage from Irene's encounter with Mycroft and then physically watched her leaving the bank, unharmed. His frown grew deeper. "She escaped!" He threw a fit and chucked the binoculars on the floor of the car. Sebastian smiled to himself from the driver's seat.

_She made it! _He thought. _Knew she could._ Jim groaned.

"Damn it Irene!" He sulked. "Why are you so annoying? I looked forward to seeing you behind bars!"

"Wait, you looked forward?" Sebastian repeated. Jim smiled.

"I was going to break her out, show her how much she needs me. Bah!" He shouted and squirmed. "No fun! Little miss party pooper." Jim suddenly smiled. "Irene! You perfect little criminal!" He squealed.

"Perfect what now?" Sebastian asked. Jim held up a pointed finger.

"The box! The box I asked her to retrieve. I think she will find it quite amusing. I did."

"What did you ask her to steal?" Sebastian asked, turning around. Jim grabbed his head and turned him back.

"A little something from long ago. Her past and mine." He smiled. "Silly little Irene didn't know that vault was mine! When she gives the gold back, it would be like she didn't even steal anything! Irene's curious little mind will keep the box of course, but she is meant to."

**LATER**

Jim scheduled Irene to meet him at the Royal Gardens at the fountain. Irene laughed at the message. She already knew Jim's plans. It wasn't that hard to find out. She was _intended_ to be caught by that man. Jim planned it so. Irene betted everything that it was _his _vault she robbed. Fair enough. Irene decided to double cross him.

Jim walked towards the fountain at 4 pm sharp. He sat on the edge, dressed in a fine suit and waited. He had Sebastian hiding in a tree overhead in case Irene brought someone with her. He knew she wouldn't though. Jim crossed his legs impatiently. Where was she?

_Buzz!_ He checked his phone.

_Behind you._

_ -IA_

Jim whipped around and saw Irene smiling from the other side of the fountain. He grinned himself and stood up.

"Hello, Jimmy. Here you go. Signed, sealed and delivered." Irene held out a suitcase. Jim raised an eyebrow and retrieved it.

"Thank you. Wouldn't have known what I would do with a bit of extra cash that you so lovely acquired from _my _vault." Jim smiled and tapped his fingers on the suitcases handle. Irene suddenly went blank, her eyes going wide.

"You-your bank?" Irene repeated in disbelief. Jim smiled.

"Oh, amazing how a little flattery goes a long way. You see, I could have gotten anyone into a vault, especially mine."

"Why would you make me break into your vault-?" Irene stopped when she understood. "That man... It was a trap?" Irene stepped forward. "I'm going to-"

"Oh, careful Irene." Jim held up a hand and looked behind Irene, smiling when a tiny red dot appeared on her chest.

"You wouldn't." Irene said through clenched teeth. "In the middle of a park?"

"Try me. I did strap a man in a bomb jacket in the middle of Main Street." Jim chuckled as he remembered. "Irene, you might think that you are always one step ahead, but remember this: You left the game, a dangerous thing to do when _I'm_ still it. You are not focused; this job at Baker Street is making you soft. Quit it, come back."

Irene smiled. "No. I like it. You can sod off." Jim's lip twitched.

"Fine. As you wish." Jim curled a lip and kicked something in the dirt. "Well, so nice to see you. As always. Thanks again for gold and gems. Oh and this," Jim opened the suitcase and took out the little box, "is for you." He winked and walked away. Irene didn't chase after him, the red dot still present. Only until Jim was out of sight did it go away.

"Stupid, stupid." Irene smacked herself in the head. "Why didn't I see that coming?" She sighed and sat down on the edge of the fountain. Noticing that she still had that box, she was tempted to throw it away. But she didn't. Opening the box, Irene found something small and tiny, only fitting inside her palm.

Irene sighed. He saved it, from all those years. She couldn't believe it. Irene wrapped her slim fingers around the acorn and held it to her face. It was old with tiny scratches. A tiny speck of blood was decked on the surface. Irene could still remember Jim's shriek as he fell. She actually felt a bit of satisfaction seeing Jim break his arm. He deserved it.

Why did Jim keep it? Why did he want to be reminded of the time Irene beat him? Maybe that was it. Irene was probably the only girl who could and can ever beat him. The position made Irene smug. Although it seemed weird, Irene never thought herself a very important person in Jim's life. Just another brain. She really needed to remember that she and Jim had more in common than she'd like to think.

Maybe the acorn was a sign of the fact that Irene can't always outsmart him. She smiled. Personally, Irene didn't really care about beating him. It was just nice to see once in a while Jim off his high horse. Then again, Irene rode a pretty high one as well.

She rubbed her head and sighed. Worrying about Jim was taking too much of her energy. Plus Sherlock was getting too nosy.

_..._

Jim smiled as he saw Irene. It was so satisfying seeing her so annoyed. He pulled out a little diary from his breast pocket and flipped a couple of pages from today. He found a date and circled the word, 'ink factory.' He circled it more and added a smiley next to it.


	23. Chapter 23: The Accident

"Got the milk boys. You forgot it again Sherlock." Irene walked through the door and sat the shopping on the table. Sherlock had his science goggles on and was dropping spirits into a beaker. "Never trusting you with groceries again." Irene rolled her eyes and packed everything away. "While I was out, I noticed that you don't have a toaster anymore. What happened to it?" Irene placed her hand on her hip and tapped her fingers on the kitchen table. Sherlock didn't respond.

"Experiment." He mumbled. Irene sighed.

"Or just playing around? What could you possibly be experimenting?"

"How much shock one would get by placing it in a bathtub." Irene's eyes grew wide.

"Please tell me you didn't use yourself." Irene stopped. "Please tell me you didn't use John. Just stop with the experimenting!"

"Calm down. I didn't use John. That's not important. What is, is the location of our little gardener friend. I suspect he is hiding at the ink factory." Irene wrinkled her nose.

"But you checked there." Sherlock avoided her gaze.

"I actually didn't get to the factory. I was too busy finding information about you."

"About me...?" Irene repeated but was interrupted by John. He just had a shower and was naked - except his towel.

"My god! Irene!" He stopped and tried to cover himself more. "I didn't know-!"

"It's okay John." Irene smiled. "No worries." Irene covered her eyes. "Not even here, see?" John thanked her and found his clothes and ran back to his room. Irene smiled. "So cute." She titled her head.

_BOOM!_

"Goddammit Sherlock! What did I just say?" Irene stormed back to the kitchen and put her hands on her hips. "That's it." Irene walked over to the table and wrestled the beaker from Sherlock's hands.

"Hey, give it back!" Sherlock objected and wrestled back. Soon Irene was pushed by Sherlock and fell over – with the beaker following.

_SMASH!_

"Irene?" The flat went quiet. Irene hadn't said a word. She had fallen over, the beaker's acidic contents splashing over her torso. Sherlock grew quiet and white. John raced to the kitchen and gasped.

Irene lay on the floor with her eyes wide open and her torso drenched. A terrible smell filled the air. John rushed to Irene's side, where tears were forming in her eyes. Her hands were in fists, twitching by her side.

"John...please..." Her voice was hoarse and quiet. John slowly lifted Irene and carried her to the coffee table. Sherlock still stood in the kitchen, traumatized. "John..."

"Shh, just stoping talking, Irene. I'm going to have to take of your top, okay?" John winced. Irene said nothing, but looked him in the eye and nodded. John unbuttoned Irene's shirt and gently and slowly peeled it away from her skin. John's cheeks went red. Irene's black bra was visible for the entire flat to see. However, that wasn't what John and Sherlock were focused on. Irene's skin was red. From the top of her breasts to her stomach, trails of the acid dripped across it and onto her hips and her back. It was fiercely red, like sunburn to the extreme. Irene wasn't nervous about the fact they could see her bra. She was nervous that they could see her scar.

"Irene, your scar..." John's eyes stared at it. Irene grew embarrassed.

"John... it's burning..." Her words refocused John.

"Right, Sherlock, get me a bucket of water then we will take her to the hospital."

Irene latched onto John's arm. Her fingers dug in. "No...hospital...please." her eyes begged him. John nodded slowly.

"Sherlock! Water!" Still, Sherlock stood there, eyes glued to Irene. John growled and snapped. He left Irene and quickly raced to the bathroom, turning on the bath. John returned and carried Irene in his arms, placing her in the tub. He had left her jeans on. He grabbed a bucket and gently poured cold water on her chest, washing away the acid. When it was clear, he filled up the bath and asked Mrs Hudson to watch her while he dashed to grab some ice. Mrs Hudson held Irene's hand as she silently breathed in and out, trying to detach herself from the pain. Sherlock had left the kitchen and stood at the door, his eyes narrowed. Mrs Hudson was talking to Irene, distracting her. Irene smiled in thanks. Sherlock left his post and returned with another beaker. It was filled with a creamy coloured thick ointment. Mrs Hudson looked from Sherlock and Irene, standing up and left. Irene glared at Mrs Hudson for leaving her in the incapable hands of Sherlock. He went slightly pink and walked up to Irene. She gave him a glance and looked away. He swallowed and knelt down, dipping his fingers in the cream. He slowly placed it on Irene's stomach and tried to spread it. He groaned and stood up.

"I can't...um... do you think you could...?" Irene sighed and snatched the beaker from Sherlock's hands. She poured on herself and let a tiny moan when the cream instantly soothed her. Sherlock still stood there.

"You mind...Locky?" Irene gave him a look and half smile. Sherlock was stunned and quickly left. Irene laughed, but instantly groaned. Her chest was still red and harsh and it was now causing Irene breathing problems. Her eyes flickered and soon her vision started going fuzzy. "John... John..." She tried to call out for John, but her voice was soft. Irene soon slipped away, her world going dark.

"Jim..."


	24. Chapter 24: The Bed Companion

Irene slept the rest of the day. Technically, she didn't sleep. More like passed out. John kept an eye her, mainly because he had put her in his bed. She couldn't be taken to her house in that condition and she had refused the hospital. Irene woke up a couple of times only to be exhausted and fall back asleep. Every time she did, John was always there, asking if she needed anything. Irene would smile and shake her head. However, when John had to leave with Sherlock Irene woke up again. This time, someone else was there.

Irene noticed straight away something was wrong. The bed was too warm. She was sleeping the on left side, noticing something on the right. Irene heard a moan.

"Hello, Irene. Don't move." Irene instantly froze up as she heard Jim's voice. "I like you better this way." She closed her eyes and felt his presence creeping closer. He was lying next to her, snuggling and whispering in her ear. "This is nice, isn't it?" he basically purred. Irene mentally cursed. Jim reached up and brushed Irene's hair. He sat up and leaned over her, gazing at Irene with his puppy dog eyes.

"Go...away..." Irene managed to say. Her voice was strained and hoarse. It sounded painful. Jim frowned.

"Why are you talking about that? More importantly, why are you asleep?" He voice dropped dangerously low. "What did they do to you?" Jim leapt on Irene and tore off the covers. Irene didn't even try to fight; she was too exhausted and tired. Jim rolled her over and Irene bit her lip in pain. Sitting on her waist. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them down. Jim's eyes saw Irene's chest, wrapped in bandages. "Irene..." he swallowed.

"Jim..." Irene weakly managed.

He leaned in, breathing in Irene's face. "What did they do to you?" Irene tired to avoid his gaze.

"Nothing..." Jim bit his lip. Irene gasped. As her eyes met his, and she saw a glimmer of emotion cross them for the first time. It was concern. "Why... should you... care?" Irene groaned. Jim let go of her wrists and cupped her face. Irene smiled. "You...care." Jim's frowned grew deeper.

"Shut up!" Jim let go of her face and started tearing off Irene's bandages. Irene cried in protest. Jim ignored them and unwound them until Irene's skin was exposed. Jim's top lip twitched as he saw the red and broken skin. Irene was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling. His fingers reached out, delicately brushing them against her skin. Irene winced. Jim put a little bit more pressure, causing Irene to grab his hands in am attempt to stop him. He stared interestingly at her and spread his fingers across her stomach to more harsh areas. Irene was biting her lip in pain. Jim suddenly pressed his fingers down more and bent down to Irene's face, locking his lips to hers. Irene's eyes went wide and her breathing increased more.

Jim pulled away to whisper something in Irene's ear. "I want to hear you scream." He crushed his lips against hers again, his finger pressure increasing tenth fold. Irene torn herself away and uttered a cry.

"Jim...please...stop!" Irene begged.

"Say that again." Jim whispered in her ear. Irene closed her eyes and wrapped her right arm around Jim's neck. She flexed her fingers and dug her nails into his neck.

"Stop." She spat. Jim smiled. He snaked his fingers and dug his nails in.

"Say _please_." Irene cried out, Jim's eyes sparkling.

"Please..." Irene breathed softly. Jim retracted his fingers and straightened up from his sitting position on Irene. Jim smiled smugly down at her. Irene glared at him.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"I'm... going to... kill you." She hissed and tried to swipe him, but the energy had drained. Jim titled his head.

"Oh come now. Admit it." He playfully said. Irene narrowed her eyes.

"Admit what?"

"You liked it." Jim smiled and raised an eyebrow. Irene rolled her eyes.

"Get off...me." Jim shrugged and rolled off Irene, resuming his position next to her. He nuzzled his head against her neck placing a hand across her stomach. Irene tried to squirm, but Jim held tight.

"It's nice." He said. "Being with you again. I have to admit, I've miss you." He looked at his hand on Irene's stomach. "Your taunts, your observations, your smell..." Jim suddenly caught himself but it was too late. Irene pulled a confused look and glanced at Jim, who also glanced.

"My smell?" Jim smiled sheepishly.

"Vanilla. Always has been since your experiment in the tree house." Irene smiled.

"The tree house. The first time...we actually met."

"You kissed me..." Jim muttered. Irene chuckled.

"And gave you measles."

"But you kissed me." Irene frowned.

"Well...five seconds ago you were kissing me." Irene reminded him. Jim smiled.

"Ah yes." The silence between them was painful. "I thought no reason to stop."

"You were...hurting me." Irene retorted.

"Exciting wasn't it?"

Irene smiled. "Kind of." Jim laughed.

"Oh, Irene."

"Don't 'oh Irene' me." Irene scolded.

"Scolding me? How like Irene." Jim sat up. "Scold me again."

"What?" Irene said. Jim persisted.

"Scold me." The lights in his eyes went crazy. "Miss Irene Adler." Irene was about to say something but Jim leaned in again and kissed her, not as harshly but still not really soft. Also, this time Irene actually moved her lips. Jim smiled and reached up and brushed his fingers against Irene's cheek. She reached up and touched the buttons of Jim's suit and grasped them. Irene's eyes suddenly fluttered open and she pulled away. She stared into Jim's eyes and sighed.

"You should go." Jim pouted and leaned in.

"I don't want to." Irene edged further away.

"You need to." Jim sat up and looked down at her.

"You go to sleep, wake up and I'm gone." Jim offered, titling his head and raising an eyebrow. Irene considered.

"Fine. No funny business." Jim smiled and snuggled back next to Irene. She rolled her eyes, suddenly shivering. Jim sat up and pulled the covers back on her. She gave a half smile and closed her eyes, falling asleep.


	25. Chapter 25: Realization and Truth

Irene opened her eyes. Sure enough, the bed was empty. She smiled to herself and swung her body around and sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Ah!" Irene clutched her stomach and groaned. It still hurt, but Irene had to get up. She re-wound the bandages around her stomach and found that John had placed a dressing gown on the end of the bed. Irene sighed and held it up. It was simple and brown and she loved it. Irene placed her skinny arms in the holes and tied to cord loosely around her waist. She shoved her hair in a messy bun on the top of her head and fixed up her face. John had put her bag in the room as well and Irene dug out her little make up bag. However, she only found makeup remover cloth and mascara. Washing her face using the cloth and replacing foundation with mascara, Irene felt she could do nothing else to brighten up her appearance. Plus, she remembered it was only the three of them in the flat. Or, so she thought.

"Irene, Mycroft Holmes." Sherlock sat across from his brother in an armchair while Mycroft also sat in own. Irene could not see his face as his back was turned to her. Irene froze and tired to make her words strong.

"Mycroft? Interesting name, then again so is Sherlock." Irene walked around to meet him and stopped dead still, more shocked than before. Her eyes grew in recognition as she remembered the man from the bank. Mycroft was equally shocked, his mind recalling as well.

"Miss Adler." He stood up and held out his head. Irene swallowed and shook it.

"So, Mycroft is it? I can see where Sherlock gets his looks from, but not his terrible manners." She flashed him a smile.

"Sweet nothings will get you nowhere." Irene pouted, then smiled.

"Still, can't hurt to try." She turned around as she noticed someone was missing. "Where's John?"

Sherlock answered without looking at Irene, his face still glaring at Mycroft. "Gone. The clinic called." He looked from Mycroft to Irene, trying to mentally connect the dots.

"You've met, haven't you?"

"Um, yes." Irene quickly said. "I was just about to say, 'hey, wasn't that you from the café the other day?' Small world, ain't it?" Irene shrugged and smiled fakely. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Fine, whatever. Like it's my business anyway." Mycroft stared Irene down.

"So, what is your business with Sherlock here? Can't be anything more than a mutual relationship. Plus, I have my money on John."

"Huh?" Irene said, confused at Mycroft's last statement. "No, I'm their housekeeper. Not very hard to believe."

"How often are your shifts?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Three days a week."

"Acceptable." He nodded. Irene titled her head.

"Acceptable?" She repeated. "What's the problem?"

"Just think you are wrong company for Sherlock." Irene smiled.

"Don't you think he is old enough to decide? Plus I'm not the 'wrong' company." Irene folded her arms.

"Not the way I saw last time we met." Mycroft smiled as Irene's faded and she stole a glance at Sherlock's prying eyes.

"Ancient history, Mr Holmes." Irene suddenly realised she had said that same sentence before. She glanced at Sherlock who also heard. "Anyway, may I ask _your_ business here? If you are finished, I have vacuuming to attend to."

"You're not cleaning. You just woke up from a serious accident."

Irene glared at Sherlock. "You told him?" Sherlock smiled.

"Not a word."

"What happened?" Mycroft leaned in.

"Just a nasty spill of chemicals." Irene shrugged but suddenly groaned and held her stomach. "Oh, you are dead Sherlock." She groaned again.

"Why would he spill it? Sherlock has steady hands. Doesn't matter. Just a very unfortunate accident for you. One might say, justice?" Mycroft smiled smugly at Irene who glared. "Anyway, just offering a case and then leaving. Have other things to attend to."

"Government things?" Irene asked smiling as Mycroft was turning to leave. He stopped and turned around.

"I would watch your words very carefully, Miss Adler. Also your actions. I will be watching." He saluted his umbrella to Irene then turned, walking down the staircase. Irene folded her arms and poked out her tongue after him.

"Your brother is a git." Irene pouted. Sherlock smiled.

"True. You seem to interest him. What, prey tell, have you done to do that?" Irene straightened and turned to Sherlock.

"Mind your business. I have things to do."

**LATER**

"Sherlock, did you solve that case?" Irene asked before she left. It was later than usual as she took twice as long because of her injury. Sherlock naturally didn't offer to help. Sherlock looked up from his laptop.

"Which one?"

"The gardener one." Sherlock remembered.

"Oh, yes. Ages ago."

"Oh!" Irene turned, interested. "Who did it?"

Sherlock closed his lid. "It was the brother. The victim found out about their relationship, threatened to ruin him so the brother killed him. The gardener helped of course, knowing which would be the right bacteria to kill them. They poisoned him, watching him die then created that big scene to try and hide facts." Sherlock opened his lid again. "The couple are now hiding in Sussex, but the police will soon caught up."

"But what about the bomb?" Irene sat down on a chair. Sherlock didn't look up.

"I fear that the brother and gardener had help on this murder. A bit a counseling, I guess. By a certain consulting criminal." Those words make Irene's head beat skip. She swallowed them down and tried to appear blank. "I know who he is, however tying the case to him is impossible. Jim Moriarty is untraceable."

"Oh, I wouldn't give up too quickly." Irene stood up and grasped the door handle. "Even the most slippery people are caught if you know how to work the net." She winked and left, leaving Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

Irene breathed in the afternoon air and walked down Baker Street. She didn't drive her bike there that morning and felt she needed the walk to clear her head. Soon, she found herself walking through a park. She smiled. The sun was warm when it poked through the trees. She picked a flower when one suited for her fancy. Soon, she wasn't alone.

"Oh, hey John!" Irene smiled as John approached her.

John looked up surprise. "Hey Irene. Just going for a walk. You finished work?"

"Yeah. How come you're not visiting Mycroft as well?"

"Um, have you met the guy?" John smiled. "Not exactly a people person. Plus he and Sherlock tend to fight a lot." Irene laughed.

"True. Want me to walk with you?" John considered.

"I was going to circle it another time, but sure. Some company would be nice." Irene grinned and turned around, taking another lap with John. They were silent for a few minutes but slowly began to talk.

"Thanks for... my stomach... and junk." Irene mumbled and looked at the ground. John looked at her.

"Just doing my job."

"Really?" She glanced up.

"Well, a bit more I guess. You're a friend. Friends help each other. Especially when their other idiot friends spill acidic chemicals over the other."

"I meant to taking me to the hospital. You didn't have to listen." John smiled and looked away. Irene chewed her lip. "John, you and I are more alike than you know."

"How?"

"Sherlock and Moriarty. They need us like we need them. I'd never admit it, but I miss Jimmy. He's my friend. Like you and Sherlock. He needs someone like you not only for a moral compass, but to remind him he is not so much better than the rest of us. You're his connection to humanity."

"You know about Moriarty?" John asked, eyes wide. Irene shrugged. "Unfortunately."

"Then Sherlock was right. You are connected to him." Irene laughed.

"I knew there was a reasons he hired me. Typical Sherlock."

"What about you and Moriarty?"

"You mean 'relationship?'" Irene frowned at the word and air quoted it. "It's a bit more complicated. I guess you can say it's a bit like yin and yang. I'm the yang, he is the yin."

"I thought yin was the female."

"Not really. Yin is colder, more earth bound. But I'm sure after hanging around me you'll find I'm the opposite, free, creative and warm. Plus I'm not a fan of the night. It's creepy."

"What about Sherlock and me?"

"Hm." Irene held a hand to her chin. "Not sure. I think you are yang actually. Sherlock is a bit colder and earth ordinated. You are wilder, warmer plus it fits since you were in Afghan and all."

"Interesting." John titled his head. Irene shrugged and put her hands into her pocket.

"I know right? Jim think's its stupid."

"So would Sherlock. Take too much space on his 'hard drive'." Irene raised an eyebrow and looked curious.

"Hard drive? What's that? I keep hearing about it."

"Well, Sherlock and most people can only fit a certain amount in their brain. The less 'rubbish', the more space for important things." John rolled his eyes.

"I don't need a hard drive. I have an archive." Irene stopped as soon as she said it.

"You've mentioned that before. What is it?"

"Maybe one day I'll show you."

"You dislike the night for another reason, don't you?" John smiled as Irene smiled.

"Well, someone getting lessons from Locky. Yes, I used to have nightmares when I was a child. Craved the morning, despised the night. I would get nervous just thinking about going to bed." Irene suddenly shivered when a cold wind blew past the pair. "Only Jim knew." She quietly added.

"Oh, you were friends when you were younger?" John said generally surprised. Irene smiled.

"Yes. I didn't even tell him though. Well, technically he guessed I never got sleep. I did give him measles, the nosy little brat." John laughed.

"What was he like?" He seemed very interested. Irene grinned.

"Alright. He was a neat freak, nosy, hated everyone and very controlling."

"Irene, on the other hand, was snobby, sneaky, nerdy and had a very big mouth." The pair stopped dead and went cold. Irene turned around and John followed. His hand was glued to his gun. Jim beamed, _still_ in a suit, hands in pocket. He looked like a Cheshire cat. A deadly Cheshire cat.

"Jim." Irene said through gritted teeth.

"Irene. And company?" Jim flashed a smile at John who stood next to Irene in a firm frown. "Someone being busy? Why and I thought after last night..." Jim glanced swayed and he almost looked hurt. Irene's frown grew deeper.

"What do you want?"

"A hello! Bit bored, wanted to see what's up. So, what's up?" He asked, titling his head. Irene could hear the danger in his tone. The words were innocent, but Irene learned to never trust his words.

"Oh, you know. You never leave me alone."

"Don't you forget it. Now, Dr John Watson. How's Sherlock? Still his little pet?"

"Shut up." He spat through gritted teeth.

"Such manners! I see he hasn't broken you yet. Sherlock has got to train you better."

"Leave Mr Moriarty. You have no business here."

"Quite true." Jim's glance was lost for a second but within that time John whipped out his gun and cocked it, aimed for Jim's skull.

"_John!" _Irene hissed quietly. "_Don't be stupid!"_ Jim laughed.

"Listen to the good girl Dr." Jim poked out his tongue as two small red dots appeared on Irene's and John's chest.

"Crap." Irene said. Jim wiped something from his lip while his _tssked_.

"Same old Johnny boy." He pulled out a pocket watch and gasped at the time. "Oh, dear. Shame I can't continue. Places to be, people to kill." He made a gun out of his finger and winked while shooting it at John. "Kill you later." Jim spun and walked into the heart of the park. Soon he disappeared amongst the trees and plants. Shortly after the red dots disappeared as well.

"Damn it Irene while did you kill him when you were younger?" Irene glared at him.

"I had enough to worry about excuse me! He could have killed me! Did you know what it was like your only friend a murder and who could have killed you if you made so much as the wrong move?" Irene stopped herself and blinked. John's mouth was opened. "I'm sorry John. That was completely rude and out of line." Irene swallowed and sat down on a nearby bench. John sighed and followed her.

"No, my comment was. I understand. I'm sorry too. You have guts still being her today with a guy like that in your childhood."

"Don't shift they blame. I wasn't miss goody-two-shoes either." Irene admitted and rubbed her forehead. "God I am sick of this crap."

"What crap?"

"Life." Irene smiled. John did as well.

"Ah, life. A real bitch." They chuckled then fell into a nice silence for a short while.

"It's getting dark." Irene noticed. John scratched his head.

"And it's only 5:30. What time did you leave?"

"Quarter past four?" Irene recalled. "Damn, have to go shopping before I get home."

"Then I won't hold you back. You fine to get home?" Irene smiled.

"The real question is are you?" John smiled.

"I'm pretty sure I can handle myself." Irene said her goodbyes and was about to walk off. John stopped her.

"You doing anything tomorrow night?" Irene turned around.

"Was going to watch Law and Order, but not really. Why?" John started to look nervous.

"I'm having dinner with my sister and I was wondering if you wanted to come. She has heard about you and wants to meet you." Irene brightened.

"I'd love too! Need some girl time, always surrounded by boys. Molly doesn't count." She shrugged.

"So, 6?"

"Great. Text me the address. Not coming in tomorrow, remember?"

"Sure." John smiled and turned around. But quickly spun around again when he noticed something. "Wait, I don't-" John stopped talking when he sure Irene had already walked away, "Have your number." He mentally smacked himself and jumped when his phone went off. A message, from Irene.

_Here's my number you forgetful silly billy. 0427914737._

-_IA_

John smiled at the text and popped his phone back into his pocket, heading back for Baker Street.


	26. Chapter 26: The Sister

Irene hitched down her dress nervously. The slim black cut with an inky pattern started to ride up her legs. Doing that wasn't easy while carrying wine as well. "Be cool. Be cool." She breathed in and out. The house was smallish but cute, just in the outskirts of London. It was two stories in a quiet street. Irene liked it. She rubbed her sweaty palms on her dress and rang the doorbell. Instantly, she heard footsteps.

"Hello!" Irene nervously shouted at the person who answered. It was a woman, young in age and who gave a little jump at Irene's aggressiveness. She smiled nevertheless and welcomed her in. The woman must have been John's sister, as many of her features resembled his.

"Hi, yourself. Come in, don't be nervous!" She grinned and closed the door behind Irene. She then led her down the hallway into the dining room. The table was set for three, John already sitting there. "John, Irene's here."

"Oh good you found the place okay."

"Very nice." Irene said rather sharply. She quickly corrected herself. 'The house, I mean. It's beautiful." The woman smiled and took three glasses out of a corner cupboard.

"Thank you. Slow work but it got there. I'm Harriet by the way."

"Bit nervous?" John said behind his hand as Irene sat down next to him.

"Shut up." She spat back but smiled when Harriet placed a glass in front of her.

"Nice choice, Irene." Harriet nodded in approval and poured glasses. She raised a toast. "Don't know what I'm toasting too, but I toast anyway!"

"You always do." John mumbled behind his glass. Harriet glanced at him. She finished the glass in a couple of gulps and then poured another. Irene took a tiny sip.

"So, Irene. How do you know little bother?" Harriet placed a hand under her chin.

"Oh, I'm their housekeeper. In Baker Street."

"Housekeeper? Surely only a day job. You can't not be a model!"

"Model?" Irene repeated. "Oh, no. I doubt that." She shook her head.

"How modest. Anyway must be tiring hanging around boys all day. Tell me, have any girl friends?" She titled her head innocently. John glared at her. Irene blinked innocently.

"No actually. Don't really have a lot of guy friends either. Not really my area." Irene sheepishly tapped her glass. John's eyes widened as he remembered that exact same speech from Sherlock. Sure enough, Harriet got the wrong message.

Her eyes sparkled. "So, no boyfriend then?" Irene shrugged.

"Yeah. Tend not to be really that close. Personally." Irene added uncomfortably. John mentally smacked his head. Irene wished she could just disappear.

"Dinner! What's for dinner, Harry?" she broke away from Irene's face and answered John.

"Hm? Oh, new recipe. Asian."

Irene smiled. "Sounds cool." Harriet beamed back. She leaned in.

"So, Sherlock."

Irene's eyes glanced around the table. "What about him?"

"Well, what you think of him?" Harriet raised her eyebrows.

"Good man, brilliant. Bit stubborn though."

"But...?"

"But what?"

"Any...feelings?" Irene opened her mouth and closed it again.

"No! Sherlock's like a annoying little brother." She shrugged.

"Johnny?" Harriet pointed across the table.

"Harry!" John cried in protest.

"John's a very good friend." Irene replied.

Harriet smiled. "Great."

"Harry? Talk in the kitchen quickly." John stood up and pulled Harriet away. Irene furrowed her eyebrows and looked concerned. She picked at something on her glass.

John made sure Irene couldn't hear him. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing Johnny." Harriet said innocently.

"Irene is not on your team."

"Who said she was?" However, as Harriet was saying this she was trying to steal a glance at Irene.

"Harry!"

"What?"

"Clara's not coming back." His words made Harriet looked at him.

John couldn't mistake the hurt in her eyes. "This is not about her. I don't care about her anymore. Beside, its never to late to change sides anyway." Harriet grinned and walked away, sitting back on the table. Irene grinned.

"Everything okay?"

"Perfect." Harriet beamed. John frowned and sat back down.

"So, Harriet-"

"Call me Harry." She smiled. Irene nodded.

"Harry, do you have a husband?" Harriet waved her hand.

"Men, honestly. All of them are the same. Annoying, controlling."

"Yeah." Irene smiled. "Who needs them?" Harriet raised an eyebrow.

"Irene, can you help me in the kitchen for a sec?" She stood up with Irene following. John glared at her.

"Sure."

"Sorry to be annoying, but can you help take the pot out of the oven?" She pleaded with shiny eyes. Irene smiled, happy to help and bent down to open the door. Harriet snuck behind her and glanced down. She titled her head.

"Could you pass a oven mitt?" Irene lifted her head. Harriet quickly changed her gaze.

"Hm? Oh, sure." She took one out of a drawer and handed it over. Irene thanked her and slowly pulled it out. Harriet glanced again.

"Harry!" John stormed in and pulled her away. "Stop it! I will take her home if you continue this."

"Why do you care?" Harriet smiled. "Oh, I see now."

John glared. "See what?"

"You like her." John opened his mouth.

"_What?"_

"Oh you heard me. You carry a little something for Irene."

"Listen, it is strictly professional between us. Plus, I'm dating Sarah."

"Sure, sure." Harriet smiled and took the pot from Irene. "Thanks darling. I'll take it from here. Go sit down." She gently nudged Irene away and opened up the pot. Irene sat back down with John.

"Your sister is nice." Irene smiled absent-mindingly.

John frowned. "Yeah, she's cool. Irene, do you see what is going on?" Irene blinked.

"Huh?"

"Wow, you are just as vague as Sherlock." John shook his head.

Irene frowned. "Hey, I object that!" She stopped. "What am I objecting too?"

"Exactly!" John pointed at her. "You have no clue!" John instantly shut his mouth as Harry returned from the kitchen. Irene smiled. Harry blinked her eyes and grinned.

"Dinner is served." She handed out three plates and placed them in front of Irene, John and then herself.


	27. Chapter 27: The Kiss

Dinner went well. Harry lowered the amount of times she hit on Irene and John tried to be patient about it. Irene, of course, stayed oblivious about the whole thing. After Harry finished the bottle, and all the food was eaten, Irene said her goodbyes. John stayed back and said he would see her tomorrow. They stood outside the door for a few minutes. John looked at his watch and shook Irene's hand and went back inside. Harry stayed. Irene just smiled like a dill.

"It was a lovely dinner Harry. And your house is beautiful." She complimented. Harry stared at Irene's mouth. She didn't noticed and continued. "It was a pleasure to meet you-"

Harry leant in and placed her lips against Irene's. Her eyes were open with surprise and she wobbled a bit. Harry pulled away and blushed, looking down. Irene just blushed. "Thanks for the great evening." Harry gave a grin and slipped back inside. Irene stood for a little while until she clumsily climbed down the steps.

"Didn't see that coming." Irene shook her head, walked to the main road and waited on the curb for a taxi. "Did not see that coming at all." She smiled and rubbed the back of her neck. Finally, she called one down.

"Charles Rd, please." She asked the driver as she got it. Unfortunatly, Irene was distracted so she didn't notice the fact someone was already in the back seat.

"Hello Irene."

"Huh? – Ah!" Irene was crushed against the door as someone came on top of her. "Driver!" she screamed.

The driver's window was closed. Irene managed with her free hand to flick on the cab light. There, smiling into her face like the insane Cheshire Cat he is was Jim. He titled his head.

"Son of a bitch!" Irene cried and pushed him off her. "What are you playing at?" Jim frowned and leaned forward slightly as the cab drove around a corner.

"How rude."

"You bet your ass its rude! Driver! Stop!" She banged on the window. The driver glanced in her direction and it turned out to be Moran. Irene scowled.

"Oh, don't scowl! It ruins your pretty little face." Jim purred. Irene stared him down.

"Oh, what do you want?"

Jim leaned in. "What is with you and John Watson?" He raised an eyebrow.

Irene sighed. "What on earth do you mean? Nothing is going on! I went to dinner to meet his sister!"

"Meeting the family? Why not make it official?"

Irene was confused. "Make what official?" Jim threw himself at Irene again.

He put his mouth to her ear. "You are never to see Johnny again, do you hear? I want you to never even think about it." Irene's breathing went up.

"Think about what?" She whispered in his ear. Jim remained silent, but soon smiled.

"Never you mind." He was about to move away, but Irene pulled on his suit and forced him to remain where he was.

"_Think about what?_" She asked more fiercely. Jim opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Irene saw his open mouth and slowly brought hers closely. Soon, their lips met.

It was motionless at first, but soon Jim's characteristic fierceness emerged and became rougher. His fingers dug into the back of Irene's neck and scratched at it. Irene lifted up her leg on the seat, with one hand on Jim's cheek. She pulled away slightly, just enough to murmur, "Getting back to where we started off, hm?" Jim smiled.

"Indeed. Only this time..." Jim reached onto Irene's chest and pushed hard, causing the breath to be knocked out of her. She gasped in surprise. "... I can be as rough as I like." Jim laughed and grabbed Irene's arm and dug his unusually sharp nails into it.

"Two can play at that game." Irene leered and reached into Jim's shirt. Her finger slid around until they lay on his back. She flexed her nails and dragged them down his spine. Jim gritted his teeth and glared at her. Irene smiled smugly. The car took a sharp turn and both Irene and Jim received a painful bump on the head as they hit them window. Jim was quick to dismiss it though, and was soon back to hurting Irene. He grabbed her right wrist and begun twisting it, while kissing her. Irene closed her eyes and bit Jim's lip. Hard. He uttered a muffled cry and tried to pull away, but Irene bit harder. Jim frustratingly lifted his hand and slapped Irene across the cheek. He was thrown on the other side on the cab. Irene started wide-eyed, holding the cheek that he had just struck.

Jim pulled out a handkerchief and smothered his bleeding lip. She was slightly scared at his reaction and a tiny bit smug. Irene opened her mouth to say something when Jim reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a gun. She stared at it. "Bit drastic, don't you think?" She smiled uneasily.

"I don't know Irene." Jim said, muffled under handkerchief. "Tell me, do you know how much it hurts?" Irene took a tiny headshake. Jim laughed. "It hurts like a bitch, much like this." He cocked it and pointed at Irene's face. She started down the barrel. "Beg me to spare you." He took away the cloth and the bleeding stopped. It was swollen and looked quite funny. Irene didn't dare laugh. She gritted her teeth.

"No."

"No?" He repeated. "Wrong answer..." He wrapped his finger around the trigger.

"Stop." Irene looked away and groaned. "Stop."

"Look at me." Irene refused to. Jim struck Irene across the right cheek, gun and all. She cried out and fell t the floor of the cab. The gun broke skin and she was bleeding. "Beg!" Jim lifted his foot and stomped on her leg. Irene cried out again and tried to get up but Jim kicked her back and she cough blood. Jim then grabbed Irene hair and pulled her up to his face. She gasped painfully. He snarled in her face. "Beg or I shoot you. Right now." Irene torn her eyes away from Jim's eyes to the gun.

"P...please sp-spare my... life..." She whispered. Jim smiled.

"Good girl." He soothed and stoked the gun against her stricken cheek. She winced as the gun was dragged across the wound. "Oh, look. Here's your stop."

The car screeched to a holt. The door clicked and swung open. Irene was dragged out and thrown on the sidewalk. "Ciao, Irene Adler." Jim smiled and waved. The door was slammed shut and the car quickly drove out of sight. Irene coughed violently and dragged herself into a sitting position. Generously, Jim had 'dropped' her off in front of the house. She slowly but surely forced herself up the steps and managed to get the door open. Irene kicked it shut and crawled over to the couch; not bothering to tend her wounds or undress. She slept terribly, old memories resurfacing creating nightmares.


	28. Chapter 28: The Beginning

Irene sat the empty classroom, knees knobby and hands over her mouth. Karl had just drowned. But he was a brilliant swimmer. He couldn't have. Irene knew the answer but dared not to say it. Her stomach was in backflip mode and her breath was quick. The classroom door slammed.

"Irene. Though I might find you here." Irene held her breath and quickly spun around, knocking over a chair.

"Y-you... Karl... you!" She stammered and pointed. Jim just grinned. Irene was shocked. How could he smile? "How can you just do that?" Jim stopped and blinked his eyelids.

"Do what?"

"That! How can you go without any conscience and do that?" Irene started yelling and getting nervous. Jim frowned.

"Stop yelling, Irene. Someone might hear us."

"Good! Fine by me! I don't care!" Irene screamed the last word. Jim dodged past the desk and threw his hands on her throat. Irene gasped and was thrown over a desk with Jim on top.

"You breath so much as a word and I will do the same to you. Do you understand?" His eyes drilled through hers. Irene gave a tiny nod. He released her and took a step back.

"But why?" It was barely a whisper. Jim smiled and looked to his left.

"Karl thought he was so clever, so much more talented then me. He _laughed_ at me. So you know what? I stopped it. Stopped it forever."

Irene was pale. "Y-you just can't do that to every person cleverer than you." Irene smiled small. "Then there wouldn't be anyone else left in the world." Jim's smile was drained from his face.

"You're very brave to play jokes just after witnessing what I can do."

Irene smiled shakily. "Just reminding myself that you are not as clever as you think." Jim raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? And little miss Irene Adler thinks that, hey?" He laughed. "Don't. You are not free and in control as you believe."

"Why on earth is this about control? What point is there of controlling me?" Irene realised the words as soon as they left her mouth. Jim started to turn reddish. "Listen Moriarty, if you so much as try anything on me I'll-"

"Do what? You can't hurt me and you won't. I've seen the way you act around me. You adore me. You love my little games and sneers, don't you?" Irene frowned.

"Not so fast _Mr Moriarty_. _You can't hurt ME and you won't!_" Irene mimicked his voice. "You should see the way you depend on me! You can't stand it. You love _my_ taunts and insults because I'm the only one that is brave, or nuts, enough to do it!" Irene pointed at Jim's chest. He looked down and smiled.

"Touché, my dear."

"I am not 'you dear'."

"Oh, you might as well be." Irene tilted her head. To be honest, belonging to Jim seemed kind of... fun.

She changed the subject. "Only 15 and already a criminal." She smiled. Jim did too.

"Yes. I might actually make a living out of it. Since I'm rather good at it."

"Don't worry, it's your first time, bound to get caught the second." Jim smiled and shook his head.

"My future schemes will never be tied to me." Irene leaned forward. "You know why? Other people will do them for me."

"Who on earth would do that?" Irene wrinkled her nose. Jim waved his hand.

"People who want crimes to happen. That is the beauty of it! Anyone who needs help... dodging the law, I shall gladly give assistance. For a price of course." Irene's mouth was open.

"That sounds... awesome." She smiled. To be honest, she had no idea why it sounded that way, and why she didn't instantly object it. Jim narrowed his eyes.

"What? No objections." Irene shrugged.

"I have none to give." She folded her arms." When is this master plan happening? I suppose after university." Jim blinked.

"Why would I go to university? Why waste those years? Start hard and early." Irene frowned and walked forward.

"Well, you can't dive in without knowledge." Irene sat on the bench that aligned the window and motioned Jim to sit as well. He did. "Look, you need to know the system before you control it, right?" Jim nodded slowly. "Well, I say that you become a small time criminal, see how it works. Then you can manipulate it." She folded her arms. Jim looked into his lap, then at Irene.

"Will you be with me?" His voice was quiet, with a tiny bit of hope in it. Irene looked at the window and sighed. The police and ambulance was there, parents and students surrounding them.

"I don't belong here. At school. At home. With everything." She then looked into her lap. "I'm seriously going to lose my mind if I say here." She looked up and smiled. "Well, someone has to look after you. Count me in." She reached up and the pair shook hands, not knowing how much that decision was going to affect the rest of their lives.


	29. Chapter 29: Fetching Irene

Beethoven's "Immortal Ode to Joy" was on repeat on the old Gramophone. Her shoes were off. Her hair was in a tangled mess. The right cheek wound was swollen and red. A arrow in one hand, a bow in the other. Irene was lying on the couch, body facing up the ceiling. She straightened her bow, strung her arrow and released. The arrow shot up and stuck itself in the roof. A few second passed and it came falling down. Irene lazily reached out and caught it. She repeated until the record reached its 9th loop.

Sherlock walked through the door and stood a few feet away from the couch. Irene had her eyes closed, but her bow still pointed at the ceiling.

"Sherly." She smiled, eyes still closed. Sherlock's face remained emotionless. "I have a question." She paused. "Are you aware of 'Immortal Ode to Joy?" Irene unhitched the arrow from the bow and pointed to the gramophone. "Beautiful piece of music. It provokes so many emotions. Like-"

"Get to the point." Sherlock cut her off. Irene smiled again.

She pointed her stretched bow to the ceiling. "Is emotion a weakness?" _Smack_. The arrow plunged into the roof. It stayed. Sherlock titled his head.

"Yes."

"Why?" She asked and looked at him.

"You become distracted. Your decisions affected and you become weak."

Irene looked into Sherlock's eyes. "Is that what Mycroft taught you?" Her lips smirked a little. Sherlock glared at her.

"This isn't about me. This is about you. Have we done something stupid?" Irene looked away.

"No." She softly said.

Sherlock smiled. "Yes. Something very bad. You let your _emotions_ get the better of you." Irene turned her head more. "How interesting. Let me guess. He abused them. He tore them. Turned them to ash. Why? Its because that is what Moriarty does." Irene jumped a little. "He takes them, and turns them against you." Sherlock grinned. "I find it all rather amusing."

"Amusing?" Irene sprung off the crouch, bow aimed at Sherlock's skull. "How amusing is this?" Sherlock stared her down. Irene's eyebrows knitted and her face was serious. Sherlock raised his own eyebrows.

"Very." A short silence passed and a smile crept on Irene's lips. Sherlock smiled too. She laughed and rolled her eyes and lowed the bow.

"You're lucky that I like you, Holmes."

Sherlock titled his head. "Why?"

"I would have released." She shrugged and flicked the arrow, inspecting the metal.

"Without hesitation?" Irene gave a small nod. "How alike Moriarty you are." She laughed in a sad tone.

"How true." She curled her lip.

"How is my nemesis, by the way? You've seen him lately, judging by the wound on your cheek. Gun, I assume?"

"You assume correctly." Irene's eyes narrowed. "If anyone else did this, they would find themselves at the bottom of a creek." Sherlock smiled. "Yes, seems Jimmy was in a bad mood. And you've only seen him in a good one. Pray to God you don't." Her eyes lowered to the floor and she become distracted. "Hang on, you didn't come here to talk, you came here to collect. Hm, Sherlock?" Irene pointed an arrow at him. Sherlock sighed.

"John misses you. He wants you to come back." She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe it has something to do with me burning a hole in the carpet. He feels he needs someone watching me." He groaned. "Like Mycroft doesn't already do that." Irene suddenly shot up.

"You mean Mycroft has like... cameras in your house." Sherlock gave a sharp nod.

"Ah, I see." Irene internally groaned. Mycroft would have seen all the times Jim came into the flat. But, wouldn't Jim himself know and somehow block it? She submitted the thought. "That's good to know now."

"Why?" He asked, curious. Irene bit her lip.

"Never you mind." She retorted. "Now, I don't really feel like going back, but I assume you are not taking now for an answer because John has you whipped. I assume I'm going against my will?" Irene held out her wrists. "How about you chain me up?" She gave a wink and a wiry smile. The subject obviously went over Sherlock's head.

"Unfortunately I didn't bring any." Irene dropped her wrists and gave Sherlock a sigh.

"Fine. How boring." She pouted and threw her bow and arrows on the couch and picked up a already packed bag that was sitting beside it. Sherlock looked at it quizzically. "Oh please." Irene smiled. "I knew you'd come crawling back to me."


	30. Chapter 30: The Broom

"Stop crying, John. I have arrived." Irene walked through the door like she was the bringer of rain to a savannah. "Please, save you tears of joy for later." She said with her hands open. John stopped eating his pasta and stared.

"Who said I was crying... what? I didn't say I missed you, well I did but not like that. Sherlock?" John raised an eyebrow. Irene also did. Sherlock looked at them both and walked into the kitchen then his room. She smiled and sat down across from John.

"So, how has the battlefield been?" Irene grinned behind her hand. John smiled back.

"I'm sure you've noticed. The bathroom sink's been blocked twice, I found a toe in the cereal box and there's a scorch mark in the carpet." Irene laughed.

"I was away 3 days!" John shrugged.

"I wouldn't leave 3 hours."

Irene rubbed her chin. "Sherlock mentioned the carpet." When she turned to look at the door, John noticed her cheek.

He became concerned. "Irene! Your cheek, what happened? It's badly infected. Didn't you clean it?" Irene looked surprised.

"Oh? Hardly noticed it." That was a lie. "Didn't even realise. Badly, you say? Do you have to operate?" Irene raised an eyebrow. John blinked and looked around the room, avoiding her eyes.

"Well...yeah, yes. I have too! I can't leave it."

Irene smiled. "Well, thank goodness for our little army doctor." John stared at Irene's face, taken aback at the sudden... niceness? No, that wasn't it. Was Irene _hitting_ on John? That couldn't be it. John was certain that she didn't... well, like that stuff. She defiantly didn't show it to Sherlock or anyone else.

He blushed. "I'll just- um just-" John stumbled a little over a basket filled with bloody clothes. "Oh sorry- clumsy. I'll be, um, right back. Don't move." John headed for the bathroom for the kit. Irene crossed her legs and folded her arms. She smiled smugly and looked at the back of John until he disappeared into the bathroom.

She hummed to herself. John quickly came back and dabbed spirits into a cloth. He gently pressed on the wound. Irene softly hissed and grabbed John's arm, tightly. He cleared his throat and blushed. Irene was clenching her teeth. "Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?" John nervously asked. She shook her head.

"Nope. Gotta be a big girl and get it done." She winked and John dabbed a little harder. Soon, he cleaned it and placed a bandage over it. Irene frowned in the bathroom mirror. "Its big." She wined. John smiled.

"A wound that big? Yeah, has to be. Don't worry. It hardly affects it."

Irene looked at his reflection. "Affects what?" she smiled. John blushed.

"Well, your- um, prettiness." She grinned bigger and turned around. She walked up to him and lightly slapped John on the cheek and winked.

"Aren't you cute." John stood at the door of the bathroom, smiling to himself.

Irene looked around the house for the broom and found the brush-end full of green goo. "John! Explain." She pointed. John rubbed his forehead.

"Um, not sure. I'd ask Sherlock. He's in his room." Irene sighed and walked up to Sherlock's door. She opened it.

"Oi, mad scientist what have you do the broom-" Sherlock stood in the room in nothing but his boxers. He was turned against the door, but his face was looking at Irene. She didn't blush, scream, speak or laugh. She simply stared at his face, and repeated her words. "Hm?" She added at the end. Sherlock shook his head and shrugged.

"Wouldn't know." Irene raised en eyebrow.

"You do. I'm pretty sure John doesn't go around playing with chemicals. Tell me again." Sherlock had a hit of a smile on his lips. He turned around fully, exposing his chest. Again, Irene looked at his face, unaware of Sherlock's nakedness. He shrugged. Irene stormed out. Sherlock grinned at himself and continued getting dressed.

"Remember!" Irene shouted as she ran through the door, holding the broom and smashed it against Sherlock's back. He fell to the floor with a cry. Irene walked up and placed a foot on his back. She kicked him over and stabbed the broom into his chest. "Now, remember. Your life depends on it." She swapped the ends and put the green smile filled bristles in his face. Sherlock's eyes went wide and he tried to squirm away. "So, it _is_ poisonous? Oh, I defiantly would try and rattle the old memory..."

"Fine! I did it. I was trying to test out the growth of slime on a broom. I DID it! Wasn't it obvious?" Irene smiled.

"So obvious, then why did you lie?" Sherlock stopped. "You lie to me again, not matter how small and insignificant it is and I will do the same." She flashed a grin and walked out. Sherlock got his breath back in huffs. John walked passed the door. He stopped, looked from Sherlock to Irene who was still walking away and smiled. Sherlock scowled.


	31. Chapter 31: The Game Part 1

Jim watched from the balcony of the building. Sebastian was next to him, looking down his snipe. "On my mark." He narrowed his eyes as he looked through the binoculars. Irene was sitting in the park next to a tree. The breeze moved her hair slightly and she brought the book she was reading closer to her face. Jim smiled. The book was _Botulism: A Guide_."Still? After all these years?" He murmured. Sebastian curled his lip.

"I have a good shot."

Jim still stared. "Then take it." Sebastian fired and a loud crack was heard. Everyone in the park jumped and screamed except Irene. Instead, she glanced to the left and saw a long thin cylinder sticking into the tree. She titled her head and realised what it was. She helped make them. Inside rolled up was a long piece of paper. She opened it and read.

"_Hello sweetheart. I have decided to play a little game to see if you still the Irene I know. I will place a bomb somewhere and blow it up at 4pm. Figure it out and put your bomb disarming skills to the test. If you consult Sherlock, I will end it prematurely. Don't test me. Here's a clue!_

_Go back to your house on Charles rd. Inside your bedroom you will find it."_

Jim smiled as Irene looked up and searched around for them. His smile faded a little when Irene looked straight at him. She put a hand on her waist and held up her finger. Jim laughed and waved. She shook her head and walked away. Jim sighed and clicked his fingers. A car just a few feet away from Irene blew up, fire and bits of metal flying everywhere. Irene clutched her chest and looked back at him. A Cheshire cat grin danced upon his lips. "You have no choice."

"Guess I have no choice." Irene sighed and immediately left. She raced to her bike and headed for Charles rd. When she got there, she leapt off the bike and raced inside. "I am in no mood to be a puppet!" She hissed to herself as she opened her bedroom door. Irene pushed her anger out for a minute to concentrate. Everything was gone. Her bed, her cupboards, everything, except a small little package. She was hesitant. Jim was a bomber. But he wouldn't, even to get out of boredom. He adored her too much. Irene opened it, and to be honest was a bit underwhelmed. Inside a bloodstained envelope placed with care. She took it out and examined it. Nothing was inside. The paper was thickish, scratchy and a speckled colour. She smiled. It wasn't normal paper. It was recycled Kangaroo poo paper, to be exact. They were words written on it, addressed to a 'Michelle'. Irene knew that she had to find a shop in London that sold _this_ particular type of paper. She searched her brain.

"_Carlos and Co_..? No, not anymore. The shop on the corner of Flinders? Burned down years ago..." She muttered as she sat on the floor. She smiled. "Yes! _Santos and Son_. They'll have it." As Irene looked closer, she noticed a faint symbol. It was a leaf in a triangle. She frowned and tired to remember if _Santos and Son_ even had an insignia. Irene checked her phone. 1pm. She quickly checked the location of the shop and left. In was in southern London, on the other side of the Thames. Even without traffic it look 20 minutes. Irene couldn't afford it. She parked the bike and entered the shop. It was small and quaint. A older man sat behind a counter and a younger girl (his daughter by the looks) was putting stock in shelves.

"Afternoon Miss. Can I help with anything?" Irene smiled at the man.

"Roo poo paper. Got any?" The man nodded.

"Of course, straight from the land down under! And particular type?" Irene walked up to him and shoved the envelope in his face

"Yeah, this one. Got anymore?" The man's face went white and his pupils dilated. Irene watched in his every move. The girl noticed and rushed over.

"Excuse what are you doing-!" She yelled at Irene but stopped when she saw the envelope. "Why does that envelope have me name on it? Is it for me?" Irene smiled.

"Don't be stupid, of course its not." She dismissed Michelle. "Just wanted a reaction. Loved it!" she waved as she left the shop. The man and his daughter stood, speechless.

Irene ignored her bike and she walked towards St Barts. She needed scientific equipment. As she walked she thought about the game. Her mind then wondered. "Why am I even doing this? Do I care if he blows something up? Then, I would love to see his face if I solved it before 4..." Irene passed a homeless girl who was asking people for change. She was just going to pass her when she stopped. Irene saw that girl before.

"Spare change Miss?" The girl asked.

"Cut the crap." Irene shortly said. "You've been following me for yards. Not just you, others. Now I'll give you two options. Either you tell me why and leave me alone or I kill you. Which one?" The homeless girl smiled.

"Mr Holmes, Miss. Asked us to spy on you he did. Said your behaviour was strange." Irene curled her lip.

"Tell Mr Holmes to suck it and leave me alone." Irene turned from her and walked up to another homeless man with a long beard. Irene stared into his eyes. "I mean it." The homeless man didn't say anything or even nod. Irene stormed away. Sherlock pulled down his beard and peered at Irene as she walked away. He scratched his chin.


	32. Chapter 32: The Game Part 2

St Barts was easy to get in again. Why even bother with security guards? Irene felt it was all too easy. She slipped into the lab that Sherlock used often and pulled out a microscope. She decided to scan the blood. She first traced DNA, then other substances.

"Phillip Richmond, hey? What trouble did you land into?" Irene mumbled to herself when the test came back. He was a young enough bloke, pretty to today's standards. He had been declared a missing person for less than a month now. Not declared dead yet. "Huh? That's strange... traces of what?" Irene reread her results. "Traces of mould? Had to be after blood with spilt." She found the mould inside the envelope as well, supporting the fact that the envelope was either hidden or left in a mouldy environment. "Attic? Nah." Irene sighed. "Abandoned building..?"

"Excuse me? Is someone there?" Irene mentally smacked herself. Why on earth would she talk aloud to herself? "Hello?" Molly Hooper walked inside. "Oh, hello. I don't seem to know you. Do you have permission to be here- Oh." Molly saw who it was. "Its you."

"Huh? Oh, Molly darling." Irene remembered. "Sherlock's little fangirl. What are you doing here?" Molly frowned.

"I work here."

Irene wriggled a finger. "Not today sweetie pie. Did Jim send you on a little task?" Molly blinked.

"J-Jim-?"

"You little boyfriend from IT."

She stood her ground. "No- no he didn't actually." Irene smiled.

"Don't lie to me." Molly shrunk away a little. _What a little timid mouse_, thought Irene. "Anyway, doesn't concern me. Off you trot." Molly stood there, mouth open.

"I can't let you stay without-"

"Leave!" Irene shouted and stood, pointing at the door." Molly jumped and fled. Irene smiled and sat back down. The computer made a little beep. "Oh good, those files about our little Phillip. Ha, suicide?" She laughed at the cause of death on the file. "Dearie me." Irene wheeled her chair back to the microscope. "Traces of red brick?" She pulled away from the microscope and rubbed her eyes. "God, why isn't Sherlock doing this? Jesus James." Irene pulled out her little notebook. "Okay, let's start again. Michelle's daddy killed Phillip somewhere containing mould. Still haven't covered why, how and where." Irene suddenly clicked her fingers. "The perfect crimes scene. One that would be destroyed before anyone knew about it." She quickly searched her buildings scheduled for demolition due to mould. Bingo. One. "Number 128, Northing road." Irene recited as she wrote it down. "Brilliant. Kill your daughter's fiancée and the crime scene gone in a month! Nice and tidy." She glanced at a clock. 2:20pm. "Dammit. Need to find motives!" She searched through Phillip's police records. At last she found one. "Gambling and drug abuse? Not a good fix for a son in law. And eventually inherit a business and support a wife? Not in your dreams was daddy going to let that happen!" Irene smiled triumphantly. All she needed was the letter. But where was it? Tomas must have grabbed it off Phillip in the building and discarded it, leaving the envelope behind. Or did he keep it? Either way, Irene needed to get to the building. But first the father and daughter.

She raced out of Barts and back to the shop. Tomas was still behind the counter. His eyes grew in fear when he saw Irene.

"You should be scared. Murder!" She yelled and stabbed him in the chest with a finger. "Didn't what Phillip Richmond for a son in law? Could see why. Gambler and druggie. But was that enough to kill him? You daughter must have had a nice heart to see passed that. Shall I call her? Oh Michelle!" Irene called. Tomas held up his hands.

"Okay! Okay, I did it. But it was for her! Always has been." Tomas sadly looked into his lap. "I was just protecting her. He wasn't the right man for her."

"Yes he was." Michelle said from behind her father. Her eyes were filled with tears. "You may had not loved him, but I did. He was a gentleman, the best one I'd ever met. You couldn't see me happy?" Tomas replied desperately.

"I was doing it for you! I was saving your future!"

"A future of love?" She cried in reply. Irene was getting bored; she tapped her fingers on the bench.

"A future of debts, drugs, bills and no support!"

"Okay! Time out, Jesus. Oi, daddy, where's the note?" Irene pointed at him. Tomas stared her down. Michelle looked from Irene to her father.

"Note?" He asked.

Irene rolled her eyes. "Don't play stupid, it's too easy for you. The one that belongs in this." Irene pulled out the envelope. "The one stained with Phillip's blood." Michelle burst into tears. Tomas sighed. He turned around and went into the backroom. A few minutes later he emerged with it.

"Here." Michelle snatched it and quickly read it. Her eyes filled up more.

"Oh, Phillip." She put her hand to her mouth. "Father! I will never forgive you!" She shrieked and ran off, leaving Irene and Tomas. He sighed and hit his fist on the bench.

"You couldn't have revealed that a bit nicer? Or even more compassionate?" Irene turned her head and stared him down.

"I didn't murder that man. You did. Face the music." She turned her head and promptly walked out. After a couple of blocks Irene stopped. She had killed men. Had she also torn apart families? She glanced over to a trio to her right. They were laughing, walking to the park. Had she destroyed something similar? She didn't receive an answer as her phone hit quarter to 4. Irene quickly searched the streets for Northing road. Soon she found it. Number 128. It was old Terrance house with a dodgy fence around it. It was rusty red brick. Soon she slipped through and found the floor where it took place. The second floor, first bedroom. She held a handkerchief to her nose, remembering the mould. The floor held a large bloodstain, the walls featuring tiny flicks. A trunk was pushed into a corner. Irene knew what was hidden inside. Phillip's body. However, sitting in the blood was a little folded up piece of paper. She slowly opened it.

"Oops, wrong choice."

Irene stepped back. She should have known. Why on earth would Jim go to the trouble to blow up a place was the destined for one? But with building was it then? Irene stopped dead. The shop. It was never this building after all. The envelope's origins had nothing to do with it. Irene flew down the steps and squeezed passed the gates. She had to warn them. She didn't give a rats about Tomas but Michelle! "Faster! Faster!" Irene pushed herself. "Come on!" Big Ben chimed 4.

"No." She whispered.

A huge explosion was heard and Irene was a hundred feet away from the shop. She was knocked to her knees. She looked up and saw the bits of paper and wood and debris. Irene didn't cry. It was beneath her. She just kneeled in front of it. Quiet, not shocked, just quiet. The fireman asked her to get behind the barrier. She didn't object and rose a little shakily to her knees. A crowd had gathered behind the tape. Irene was given a blanket. As her eyes skimmed her the crowd, she saw two people. One, still in his homeless man disguise, and the other in a suit, as he always was, raising a glass of drink at her, his Cheshire cat grin beaming through the crowd.


	33. Chapter 33: Breaking Point

Irene was held to the police station for a couple of hours. She was let go, much to Sally Donovan's annoyance. Irene just flashed her a cheeky grin at her when she left. She was just about to call a taxi when a black car drove up to her. Irene couldn't see inside nor did she recognise the car.

She shrugged. "Eh, might as well go in. A ride is a ride." Irene waited for a man to hop out and open her door. "_Merci."_ She winked and climbed in. There wasn't anyone sitting in the back. She 'hmmed' and sat down. "Boring." She sighed. "Was expecting something better."

"Don't worry dear." Moran turned around from the driver's seat, next to the man who opened the door. "It will." Irene grinned and clapped her hands.

"Brilliant."

* * *

><p>"There we are, mind your head." Moran stopped the car and got out. The other man stayed. Moran walked around and opened Irene's door. Irene bent her back and hopped out of the car. "Come on." Moran pointed at the tower of flats.<p>

"So, here's where the consulting couple's been hiding, huh?" Irene raised an eyebrow. "Not bad." She nodded as she entered the foyer and stepped into the lift. The pair said nothing and stopped at the 13th floor. Irene curled her lips. 13. How unlucky.

"Cya." Moran said and pushed her out.

"Hey what-" She said but the lift cut her off. She rolled her eyes. "How predictable." She even considered just leaving via the stairs. Irene groaned. "Oh, but poor Jim will be so upset. Fine, I'll stay for a visit." She walked straight ahead for the door. It was open. The room was simple enough, living to the right, kitchen to the right. "Oh Jimmy..." Irene sang. "Come out where over you are..." Irene circled around then spotted the first bedroom. She stopped and smiled. She knew it was Jim's. Who else would have bloodstains and slashes on the wood? She turned the handle, smiling as she came in but stopped. "Oh."

Everywhere. Not a corner missed. Sherlock. Drawn, scratched, scribbled, outlined and written everywhere. _My god, _Irene's mind screamed. "Beautiful, huh?" Irene spun around and Jim was slummed against the wall, hair messy and t-shirt stained. His undone cardigan actually suited him. "Look closer." He leaned and smiled. Irene took a step back and obeyed. She nearly gasped. Sherlock was drawn in single strokes. It was made up of smaller words, more correctly, one. Irene.

"Someone's been a busy bee." Irene laughed, but it was clearly uneasy. Jim laughed to, crazily.

"Oh yes. Sometimes when nothing else comes to your mind, nightmares seem to creep in." Irene stopped and smiled.

"Please. You cannot consider _me_ a nightmare?" Jim stopped and ran up to her.

"Are you kidding me?" Jim didn't touch her, but stood a breath away. "You, that nosy, annoying, brilliant brat that always seemed to follow me everywhere? How can I not be scared of you?" Jim was joking. It was the only way. Irene had never seen this before. It was madness. Sheer madness. Of course she knew he was mad. But this...

"Your no fairy godmother yourself!" Irene equally shouted back. "Mr Moriarty, even the name! I lived in _fear!_" Jim smiled and laughed.

"Two peas from a pod, aren't we?" Irene frowned. "Oh, this is marvellous! Two of the most brilliant people in the world are _scared_ of each other." Irene and Jim circled. She didn't trust him being so open about his words.

"But about Sherlock?" Irene raised an eyebrow. Jim looked at her.

"Sherlock's a toy. A _child's plaything._ What can he do to me?"

"Exactly what I can do." Irene gestured to the walls. "_Break you."_ Jim laughed again.

"Honey, I was never whole." He smiled. "You knew me. All these years back. Think I am any different?" Irene smiled.

"Nope. You are still that naïve little boy afraid of the girl next door."

"Oh, but she isn't a girl anymore!" Jim cried. "Why, a full heartless killer stands before me!"

"Killer?" Irene stopped. "Oh, I wouldn't use that. Yes I killed." Irene admitted. "But I'm not a killer." Jim smiled.

"Is there any difference?"

Irene smiled. "Yes, there is." Jim was silent. He stopped and stared into Irene's eyes.

"Oh, why don't you come back? I miss being at your throat everyday. It made living so much more exciting!" Irene shook her head.

"No. When this is over, I'm back to Baker Street with John and Sherlock."

"SHERLOCK!" Jim screamed and threw his fists in the air. "Fucking Sherlock! I am sick of him having you! I want you! How dare he try and steal away _my _Irene when he already has John? I want my Irene back!" Irene was breathless even though she wasn't the one screaming. Jim. The famous Jim Moriarty was having a tantrum.

"Look at that." Irene chuckled. "Moriarty. The most brilliant criminal mind the world has seen and he's screaming like a four year old wanting his turn with the toy." Jim was heaving. They circled again. "How _pathetic. _What are you trying to say Jim? Hm? What is it?" She grinned. "Come on, you can tell old Irene." He didn't reply. "Okay, guessing time." She frowned. "Somebody wants a friend." Jim stopped.

"Friend? That's your conclusion? I don't need _friends._"

"Wow, you sound like Sherlock. Only, he does have one. And doesn't that annoy you? Little John stealing him away from you. Ouch. Upstaged by a _doctor._ While you sit here all alone."

"John is nothing to him."

Irene laughed. "Oh, but you think that. You said so yourself. John is Sherlock's heart. What's yours?" Jim curled his lip. "Is that it? Do you want a heart? Or just some old ill-fitting pacemaker to fill the gap?" He gave a small smile.

"Oh Irene. You have no idea how lovely it will be when I kill you."

"You'll have to wait." Jim looked shocked.

"Oh yes of course! I want to watch you run though. Like a little rabbit."

"But to where? You don't want me running _away._" Jim frowned, as Irene grew closer. "You want me running _to_ _you_."

Jim chuckled. "Irene." He looked her down and up. "Run." He whispered.

As quick as a flash, Jim pulled a knife out of his cardigan and slashed at Irene's throat. He missed by millimetres. Irene flipped and landed on the bed. "Oh, sneaky, aren't we?" Jim smiled and raced to the bed, knife high in his hand. Irene dodged and rolled over the other side of the room. She glanced quickly around the room but didn't find anything. "Oh, crap." She sighed and moved just as Jim slashed at her. He sliced her cheek. Irene didn't cry out, instead she stood up and gave a straight face, the blood pouring down her cheek.

"Have to say, Irene." Jim stopped and titled his head. "Bleeding is a good look for you." Irene reached into her sleeve and pulled out a knife as well. She flipped it in her hand and put on her best battle smile.

"Can say the same for you."

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><p>Just a quick message from the author: if you are reading this, can you please give feedback? Not only is it nice but it helps :)<p> 


	34. Chapter 34: Broken, Snapped and Cut

They both waited, daring the other to make the first strike. Irene read Jim's face, trying to find anything. A hint even, just something. Jim twirled his knife. Irene rubbed her finger along the edge of hers. Stretching out her arm, Irene threw the knife at him, as quickly as flicking on a light. Jim barely moved in time. And he didn't. The knife cut along his upper arm and lodged itself into the wall.

"Crap." Irene smiled through gritted teeth and dodged as Jim instantly dismissed his wound and swung his blade at Irene's chest. She reached out her hand and grabbed his wrist, twisting it and throwing it out of the way. Jim stumbled against the bedpost. Irene raced to the wall and pulled out her knife. She spun around just as Jim threw his own knife, missing Irene again by millimetres. She pulled out the knife, now double armed and Jim with nothing. He grinned and bounced on his feet; ready for whatever Irene threw at him. She didn't. Irene knew if she threw one, Jim would move easily and be armed again. Instead, she tightened her grip and lunged, still holding and tried to stab Jim, who kept dodging and stepping back. He suddenly grabbed Irene's wrist and snapped it. Irene cried out and let go, biting her lip. Jim grinned as he held the knife again, and plunged it into Irene's stomach. She gasped and fell to her knees. The knife was still in there. As she was falling to the floor, Jim swung around and held her. He laid her against his knees. He brushed her hair and smiled.

"Dear me that looks bad." He frowned and grabbed Irene's hand that tried to pull it out. Her broken wrist lay useless at her side. "Don't move it. It looks beautiful in you."

Irene breathed heavily and groaned. "Get it out or I'll-"

"You'll what?" Jim laughed and bent his neck and stared at Irene. "Hm?" His questioned. Irene groaned again and gritted her teeth.

"This." Irene gripped her knife in her broken hand and stabbed it into Jim's back. He cried out and fell to the floor. His cardigan was already soaked.

"You... bitch." Irene laughed painfully.

"You should know...I never go down...without a fight." Jim smiled.

"Of course. But...what now?" Irene sat up painfully and crouched on her knees. She slowly stood and gasped, standing up in a very hunched position. She held the knife in her hand that was covered in blood.

"I finish the job." Jim looked up and smiled.

"Oh, I won't be dying today." Irene titled her head.

"What makes you so sure?"

Jim laughed. "_This_." Jim gritted his teeth and stretched out his legs and knocked Irene over, where she landed on her back. Jim slowly stood up and stumbled a little, which allowed Irene to get back on her feet.

He pulled the knife out of his back at an odd angle, which made the cut longer. He swore and gasped. Irene wobbled a bit and gripped the blade, pulling it out as well. Blood poured out, soaking her top. "Damn it... I liked this shirt." Jim laughed and also wobbled. He shuffled his feet and dangled the knife at his side. He rolled it in his hand. Irene did this same. They both raced at each other, both striking hits. Irene got him in the thigh; Jim got her in the shoulder. They both cried out and collapsed. Jim crawled over Irene and pulled out his knife, holding high above his head. His eyes were full of rage and...excitement? Irene looked harder. There it was, excitement. She lowered he eyes to his crotch, and a bulge was seen. She raised an eyebrow.

"Calm down, Jimmy." He titled his head. Irene pulled the knife from her shoulder and pressed the tip lightly to Jim's crotch. He lowered his knife a tiny bit.

"Oh." He murmured.

Irene smiled. "Now get off me or I turn you Jewish." Jim stared at Irene and smiled, rolling off her and lied down on the floor. Irene sat up and threw herself on him, a hand on the wound on his thigh. She worked her fingers through the cut on the jeans and shoved them into the wound. Jim snarled at Irene and swung his knife at her, but she caught it and grabbed it, throwing it out of reach. She looked intensely into his eyes and ripped apart his flesh. Jim gritted his teeth and refused too.

"Scream Jim! _Scream_! And beg me to stop just like you did to me!" Her eyes weren't human, only madness was present. He tried to get up but Irene placed her arm on his throat. She leaned down and pressed her nose to his. "_Scream."_ Jim opened his mouth and screamed, but was almost immediately silenced by Irene forcing her lips on his. She was ferocious and rough, grabbing his face and digging her nails in. Jim worked his hand up and locked it around Irene's throat. He tightened it and pulled Irene away. She grabbed his hand and looked down at it, eyes still ablaze and a mix of snarl and smile on her face. Jim managed a sly smile. She leaned down again and kissed Jim, slowly but still hard. Jim murmured something, but it was vague and Irene dismissed it. She ran her finger through his messy hair, grabbing a chunk and pulling it.

"Now, now my dear." Jim murmured. "Let's not get too rough."

Irene smiled. "Why? Can't handle it?" Jim frowned.

"No. I don't think _you_ can." Jim stretched as far as he could and grabbed the knife, pulling a bunch of Irene's hair, cutting it in a single slice. Irene pulled away and felt the spot were he cut.

"What...?" She narrowed her eyebrows. Jim's closed his eyes and put it to his nose.

"Vanilla." He opened them again, his Cheshire cat smile reappearing. "Did you know that when I kill you, Irene sweetheart, I am going to turn you into candles?" Jim laughed manically.

Irene knew it was time to leave. She stumbled and retreated, but Jim wouldn't hear of it. He snatched her leg, pulling her back.

"Oh no! Where do you think you are going?"

Irene grabbed onto the foot of the bed. Jim laughed and stabbed her leg, making her let go and cry out. Irene kicked her legs, one of them right into Jim's left eye. He shrieked and released her.

"IRENE. I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

She looked back. His eye socket was bloody; she could only see the other. It was enough to terrify her. He _was_ going to kill her, Irene knew it. Nothing stopped him. Irene was wounded and weak. Jim stumbled clumsily on top of Irene again and drew a long thin line down her back. Irene cried out and rolled over, knocking Jim in the process. She crawled over to the door, kicking him whenever he was in reach. She pushed herself through the hallway to the lift. _Just to the lift, only to the lift,_ she chanted in her head. _Come on!_ Irene made it. With one last ounce of strength, she hit the lobby floor button. She collapsed. The doors closed just in time as Jim burst into the hallway. Irene saw him though. Murderous, terrifying, revengeful and gory, Moriarty looked like the devil, his one eye gleaming in wrath.

"Irene."


	35. Chapter 35: The Talk

Irene sat in the elevator for ages. Her blood soaked the carpet. She didn't move until someone needed it on the first floor. A young girl opened it and shrieked at Irene. She didn't blame her, Irene looked like she just came out of a battle. Well, you could say that. Irene hit the button again and cut off the screams. It opened up to the lobby and Irene burst out of the elevator, ignoring yells of surprise and protest. She threw her weight against the spinning door and fell out, slowly getting back on her knees. But it was too much. Irene gasped and fell again, breathing heavily and painfully.

* * *

><p>"I don't want you to go."<p>

Jim sat on the stool, face blank. The room was white, bright and bare. Jim was dressed simply, in a shirt and shorts. Irene sat in an armchair, legs crossed. She didn't trust his words, she never did. There was always double meaning, another layer underneath them. But... there was something odd, she couldn't place her finger on it. His face was blank, free of slyness or cunningness. His eyes looked sincere.

"Please, come back." He said again. Irene looked away and said nothing. "Please?" Jim pleaded. Irene sighed.

"What do you want?"

"You." His reply came instant. She smiled a bit.

"Of course." She scoffed.

"I mean it!" Jim objected. "I don't want Sherlock having you. You're mine." Irene snapped her head up at his words.

She narrowed her eyes. "Yours? Jim, we've tried that before. It's not going to work." Jim looked away.

"But-but I..." He looked into her eyes. "Just don't."

"I don't want to do this anymore. I'm tired." Irene laughed and scratched her head. "Of everything." Jim smiled.

"Me too. Life's just so boring, isn't it? Not worth the effort sometimes?" Irene smiled.

"Yeah, quite a lot. Although, it does get a little better with you around." Jim titled his head. "Yeah, I'll admit it. You are quite entertaining." He beamed.

"A compliment. Big coming from you."

"Hold on to it, another won't be coming for a while." Irene laughed. He smiled.

"I miss this. Us, everything. Why must you go?" She curled her lip.

"Because of things."

"You don't belong there. With Sherlock and John. They belong together, in their own little way. You don't." Irene frowned and looked away. "Why do you? Why do you want to be with them?" He looked into his lap. "Was I not enough?"

"Jim, I-" She stopped. "You were plenty. Too much actually. I just needed to escape. Breathe new air."

"Then come back?" He asked hopeful.

"It doesn't matter. None of this does." Jim smiled and stood up.

"Of course. This is just your imagination running wild during a coma. But tell me, why on earth should any of this not mean anything?"


	36. Chapter 36: Thor

Irene was in intensive care for a day. Her pulse kept falling and rising. Strangely, this was every time she smiled or frowned while still in her coma. Doctors and nurse stitched her up fine, all while looking interestingly at her scar. She was placed in a single room with a window, quite a number of floors up. Irene didn't wake until she was in the room for four hours.

She slowly opened her eyes. It wasn't too bright, thank goodness, but it still annoyed her. One of the first things she saw was no one. The room was empty and bare. No flowers or items. Still, what did she expect? An apologetic bouquet from Jim? A 'get well' card from John and Sherlock?

She sat in the room was a day, no visitors. Irene had a lot to think about, things to consider. She felt she had a pretty good conclusion by the time a certain person walked in.

"Hey, Irene." Smiled John as he walked in.

"Hello yourself." She thanked as John handed a card. Inside it was five words, "You're sick. So get well". "I assume Sherlock made the card." John shrugged.

"Not his best work."

"And where is the man himself?"

"Here. Not letting you slip away that easy." Sherlock strolled in with his coat on and collar up. His eyes glanced around the room.

"Even you wouldn't be that generous. How are the cases? Boring I believe." Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"They keep me busy."

"They keep you alive." She corrected. "It's your purpose."

"And yours?" He leaned in and asked. Irene blinked her eyelashes.

"Annoying you."

"I have Anderson for that." Irene turned and looked at John.

"How's the girlfriend? Nice I hope." He stopped.

"How-? Oh never mind. Yeah, Jess is great. Really sweet."

"Bulimic." Sherlock mumbled under his breath. But Irene heard it and smiled. John excused himself and went looking for the loo. No less than five minutes, Jim walked into the room. His cheek was still red and his eye was bloody. Bruises swelled on the eyebrow. Irene said nothing; Sherlock's eyes went wide.

"How's the patient?" He beamed. Irene folded her arms and smiled.

"Could ask the same question. I think that smock suits you." Jim was wearing a hospital gown and bandages around his wounds. He wasn't dressing up, he was actually here.

"Healing, I suppose. A boring process, don't you think?"

Irene waved a hand. "Oh, but don't worry. Right as rain in no time. Back to work and all that jazz." The two seemed to forget Sherlock's presence in the room. "Oh, Sherlock, Jim. Jim, Sherlock."

"Hey handsome." Jim winked. Sherlock said nothing.

"I knew you knew him." Irene laughed.

"Wasn't that hard to figure out." She tapped her cheek. "Where were we?"

Jim frowned. "Not sure. You kicked me then I..."

"No, no." She shook her head. "I meant..." She titled her head over to Sherlock's way. Jim released.

"Oh... back to that, are we?"

"I changed my mind. Sounds like fun. I'm in." She grinned. Sherlock tried to understand. Irene laughed. "Aw, look at him! He wants to know, but he doesn't want to have to ask! Come on, Locky, guess!"

"Details are nothing to me. I know I'll stop it." Jim dismissed him.

"Please! You're Mr Details. That's _all_ you care about."

"I agree." Irene scratched her chin. "Anyway, set for Thor?"

"Thor is it now? I thought it was Frigga."

"Nope. It works better for me." Jim nodded.

"Good. Oh, and just so we are clear, we good?" Jim gestured to his wounds and hers. Irene shrugged and then grinned.

"Of course. I think we both dealt pretty even blows, don't you think? We both know we will never do any real damage." Irene glanced at Sherlock who said nothing. Jim clapped his hands.

"Well, must get back to my wing. Happy healing, my dear." Jim bowed and turned, blowing a kiss to Sherlock who remained motionless. Irene smiled.

"Such a nice man."

"Tell me." Sherlock said.

"Pardon?"

"Tell me."

"Speak up, sweetie."

"Tell me!" Sherlock roared and shook Irene's shoulders. She smiled.

"Not with an attitude like that! Plus, you'll know soon enough. Well, one of the Holmes boy anyway." Sherlock stopped and let go.

"Mycroft." Irene titled her head.

"Who?"

"Don't play stupid. You've met him." She remembered.

"Oh! Little old pot belly? Big brother, hey? How cute."

"Hey, Sherlock ready to go-?" John walked in with Sherlock leaning over the bed. Irene turned from Sherlock to John and smiled.

"He's ready."

"Okay, we will just go then..."

"Cheerio, boys! Wonderful seeing you." John turned around and walked. Sherlock did too, but glanced behind him. "Wonderful." She smiled a Cheshire cat grin, mirroring Jim's. Sherlock saw it, the split second. Jim in Irene's eyes.


	37. Chapter 37: Mocker Hells Hos

Irene slipped out of the smock and into tight jeans and a loose shirt. She tied her chestnut hair and zipped up her boots. Taking out ammo, she placed it into the gun and cocked it. Ready.

Jim was waiting outside the toilet, fiddling with his top buttons. The door clicked and Irene walked out. "Ready?" She asked. Jim cocked his gun and smiled.

"Ready." She grinned and walked out into the busy hallway. She shot the ceiling.

"Okay everybody get down now! I mean it! NOW!" She fired again as more people cried out in panic and dropped to the floor. Jim starting breaking the glass on doors and he and Irene paced down the hallway. Irene stopped at a young man who caught her eye. She knelt down. "I said 'get down.'" He refused to look her in the eye. "Lower!" She reached back and struck the glock across his cheek, making his collapsed and fall. She grinned and straightened up, continuing walking.

"Stop right there." Jim shouted at a couple of nurses who tried and rush for the phone. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." He aimed his gun and destroyed the phone. Irene laughed and they headed out into the main foyer. Jim reached up an arm and fired into the air. "Ladies and gentlemen, do panic." He grinned and fired into the panicking crowd. He hit a man in the leg and fell down in pain.

Jim and Irene walked towards to revolving doors and Jim slid out. Irene stopped and waved her gun. "Cheerio!"

"So, that's six robberies in the last two weeks." Lestrade said as he paced around the meeting room at Scotland's Yard. "Nothing too big, just small banks. Anything taken it kept, nothing seemed to be sold or given away. Any questions?" Anderson put his hand up.

"Do we know who they are?" Lestrade picked up a file on the table.

"Team of two, female and male. Not quite sure on identities as of yet, but working on it. Standard glocks, the occasional hand grenade. Only one death at each crime scene."

"One?" Sally said.

"Yeah, don't know why. Nothing is connected to the victims, just random shots."

Anderson stood up. "I'm sorry, but camera footage? I mean, how can we not know?"

"We do know." Sherlock stepped forward, giving everyone a heart attack. Lestrade jumped.

"Bloody hell! How long were you standing there?"

"Twenty minutes." He seemed unfazed. "Anyway, I know them."

"Well, are you going to tell us genius?"

"Shut up Anderson." He retorted. "Irene Adler and James Moriarty. Not point looking up on databases; they're not there. Erased themselves _years_ ago."

"But how?"

"Do I really need to explain?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. Lestrade curled his lip. "Point is Irene and James are not doing anything serious. They are having fun, playing a game. Treat it like one. They don't care of consequence. Find them, and find them soon."

"Wait, you're not helping?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock shook his head.

"No, it is not my place."

"Screw your place! I have to armed psychos out there committing crimes!" Sherlock stepped forward.

"I have strict instructions from them not to interfere." Sherlock turned around. "So I won't." He walked out the door and met up with John in the hallway.

"You're interfering, aren't you?" Sherlock smiled.

"Of course." John shook his head and smiled also.

_Bzzzt! _Sherlock pulled out his phone. He sighed. "Mycroft."

_What is going on with Adler and Moriarty? Why are they not in jail yet?_

Sherlock ignored it. "I could have prevented it."

"How?" John asked.

"Thor, John. They even said when they were planning the robbery. 'Thor' is the Viking god of thunder. Thursday is named after him. I just ignored it completely."

"Still, even if you knew, you didn't about where they were going." Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"True. Since the hospital they have been running around the city causing havoc."

* * *

><p>"No, lift it up a bit. No, up! Now to the right... perfect!" Irene smiled as she held up the camera and clicked a photo of Jim sitting in a pile of gold and cash, with a crown on top. "Brilliant! Lestrade will love it. No doubt he will hang it on his wall." Jim laughed and jumped off.<p>

"Oh, this has been so much fun!" Irene nodded and picked up a newspaper from the table.

"I know! London's freaking out." She held it up. "First page. Nice."

"Oh, don't like my hair in that one." Jim moaned. She laughed.

"Calm down, princess. Remember, you look _sexy_ in this one." She held up the camera. Jim smiled.

"Oh, yes defiantly a keeper." He suddenly had an idea. "You me, together!" Irene smiled.

"Brilliant."

"And we will send it to Sherlock!" He clapped and laughed.

Irene scratched her chin. "He'll go nuts." She agreed. They both positioned themselves on the pile and grinned like cats. The camera clicked and they both giggled over the photo like school girls. Jim plugged it into the computer and sent it to his phone. While Irene ducked into the kitchen to get wine, Jim sent it to Sherlock.

"Irene! I sent it! Come back and see what he does!" Jim deleted the current screen on the computer and opened up a video. It was Sherlock's apartment. John wasn't in the lounge room and Sherlock had his normal blue dressing gown on. A violin bow was in his left hand. He suddenly turned his head and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He stared at it. Jim frowned. "Oh! He's so boring! Do something! Throw something!" Irene came back and handed Jim a glass.

"Calm down, Sherlock hides everything remember? I'm sure inside he's pissed. Or deducing. Either way, let's not worry." She took a sip. Jim agreed.

"Yeah I guess." He looked out the window. It was afternoon, the sun seeping through into the apartment. He stood up and looked out of it. He smiled faintly. Irene stood up and looked out as well. "Hey, what to go for a walk?" Irene titled her head.

"Jim, you just read my mind." She smiled. They raised their glasses and toasted.

* * *

><p>John was walking through the park, eager to get home. He had just popped out to get money from the bank and pick up bread. Sherlock forgot again.<p>

"Johnny Boy!"

"J-Bear!" Jim and Irene jumped out of nowhere and linked one arm each with John. He cried in protest and tried to get out, but their grips were firm.

"How nice is this, a walk in the park?" Jim smiled. Irene looked down.

"Just back from the bank and bakery. The loaf of multigrain smells nice. Watching your weight? Wise." She winked. John growled.

"Get off me!" HE twisted and tugged. They didn't budge.

"Not a very nice thing to say to your friends, is it?" Jim looked over at Irene who shook her head.

"Not at all!" She cried. John looked at Irene and was about to reason with her. He noticed something different about her. He wasn't sure what. But Jim suddenly interrupted him.

"How's our other best bud, Sherlock, going?" He smiled. John shook his head.

"Come on. Bestie to bestie?" Irene tried.

"Not eating, annoying and going through cases like cigarettes. Happy?" Jim beamed.

"Delighted. But, there's one more thing." John sighed.

"What?" He snapped.

Jim laughed. "Oh, such spirit! I should have kept you when I dressed you up in Semtex! You would have made a nice pet." John frowned. "Tell Sherlock to keep am eye on things. Especially the news. They just love us at the moment!"

"Also", Irene added. "Tell him to look out for Mocker Hells Hos. He might need it." She winked and kissed him on the cheek. "Bye-bye!" Jim did the same thing and walked off with Irene.

John groaned and instantly wiped off the spot where Jim kissed him. But he didn't on Irene's side. "Mocker Hells Hos? What the hell does that mean?"

"I think Sherlock would like that little puzzle." Irene grinned as she and Jim walked under the lights in the park. Jim titled his head back and forth.

"Oh, defiantly." She ran her tongue over her teeth and Jim rested his head on Irene's shoulder. She looked down and rested her own on his. They walked until it was dark and continued until they sat on the steps on the At Gallery, sharing a box of Chinese food.

* * *

><p><strong>Quick word from author: <strong>Reviews, people! I would love them :)


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